I Will Always Come Back To You
by Watermelonsmellinfellon
Summary: Tom had a friend when he was little. His friend taught him that he was special because of what he could do and that people who hated him, were beneath him. When an accident occurs, Tom's friend promises that he'll never truly be gone. Hadrian always comes back to Tom, in the forms of Haraldr, Harish, and finally, Harry. Magic grants wishes. A/N:Reincarnation. SLASH. TMR/Harry/LV.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello, people! New fic.**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.**

* * *

Tom Riddle happily chased after his friend, Hadrian. Hadrian was five years older - he was going to be ten! - but he only played with Tom. He was Tom's only friend and he liked to make sure that Tom knew more than the other children. He bought Tom a dictionary and gave him sweets when he did well in his classes. Tom liked Hadrian more than anything in the world. Even the talking snakes in the bushes by the park down the road.

Hadrian was holding his hand like normal. "You did good today, Tom."

Tom beamed, happy that Hadrian knew and that he was pleased with him.

"I think you deserve a surprise."

Tom was practically bouncing, he was so excited. "What is it?"

Hadrian pulled him over to a tree off to the side of the orphanage's yard. When they were seated, Hadrian held up a hand. "I saw you do something the other day and I recognized it, because I can do it too." In Hadrian's open palm, rested a rose bud. Slowly, before Tom's eyes, it began to grow and grow until a beautiful, red rose rested across Hadrian's fingertips.

"You made the grass grow the other day and at first I thought I was imagining it, but then I realized... you're like me."

Tom took the rose carefully, making sure that he didn't accidentally squish it in his hands. "What did you do?"

"I wanted it to grow and it did. When you walked in the garden last week, you made a comment about there being nothing to pluck and I noticed that after every step you took, grass would grow."

Tom gasped, " _Really_?"

Hadrian was nodding, "Yes. I remember my mom could do similar things when I was your age. She used to tell me, 'You're special, Harry. So special.'. So I'm telling you that you are special, Tom. So special and smart and amazing. Don't ever let those bullies tell you otherwise. You are important and those who try to tear you down aren't worth your attention. They are worthless. They are nothing."

Tom listened, enraptured because Hadrian was saying these things.

Tom threw himself at his friend, wrapping small, pale arms around the older boy's shoulders. "I love you, Hadrian!"

"And I you, Tom. And I you."

* * *

It had been sudden.

A little after Hadrian's eleventh birthday, he and Tom were walking across the street on their way to the park, when a loud noise caught their attention.

"No!" Hadrian's voice yelled out.

Tom found himself sprawled on the ground as a loud noise caught his attention. Looking around, he saw something black falling from the sky.

There were screams all around him as it landed and Tom realized what it was.

Hadrian.

Ignore his bleeding knees, Tom got up and rushed over to Hadrian, who had somehow fallen from the sky.

"Harry!"

Red. Blood. Hadrian's head was bleeding.

Tom's eyes began to sting and his nose burned. Someone was pulling on the back of his shirt, but he was clutching Hadrian's hand too hard to be moved.

"Harry!" he cried again.

Hadrian's amazing, green eyes opened slightly, the blood oozing from them like strange tears. "Tom," he said softly.

"Harry, how do I fix you?!"

"I... don't think you can."

He can't be fixed?

He was... dying?

"Tom, I'm sorry... I don't think I can move... no, I can't."

"Harry, you have to get better, you can't... leave me. You can't!"

The pulling on Tom's shirt became insistent and more hands joined in. He fought to stay by Hadrian's side, kicking the nearest person as hard as he could.

"Tom." Hadrian's voice was too low, too soft. His eyes were searching for Tom, but it was like he couldn't see Tom.

"Tom, I'm not leaving for good."

"But-"

"I'll always come back to you."

* * *

The pulling became too much and Tom was hauled away from his bleeding friend, crying and screaming to be let go.

Mrs. Cole, the matron of the orphanage, was informed of what happened when a constable brought Tom back to Wool's.

Hadrian had been hit by an automobile. He had pushed Tom out of the way. Tom had clung to Hadrian as people tried to get him away from the 'gruesome scene'.

Tom paced his room with worry.

What happened to Hadrian?

How long would it take?

He glanced out the window for the umpteenth time, seeing the very same constable walking up the walk way.

Leaving the room, Tom slipped quickly and quietly down the stairs. Mrs. Cole was at the door, her hand pressed to her chest.

"Nothing could be done for him but to make his passing easier," Tom had heard the man say.

 _'Nothing could be done.'_

 _'Make his passing easier.'_

Hadrian.

* * *

The bullies that had always been scared because of Hadrian, came at him in droves. They laughed, they poked, one locked him in the cellar.

Tom hated them.

He was better than them. He was special. Hadrian had said so.

They were the worthless ones.

They didn't deserve to exist.

Tom glared, because he wasn't going to stand by and let this continue.

They'd learn why they shouldn't have messed with Tom Marvolo Riddle.

For Hadrian's sake, Tom would make them all suffer.

* * *

 **A/N: First is done.**

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	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello, people! New fic.**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.**

* * *

Tom Marvolo Riddle had just recently graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and have managed to find himself a position in Great Britain's most well-known, dark artifacts shop. He worked as the front end boy in Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley. With this position, Tom was put into contact with a lot of pureblood aristocracy and was therefore able to charm them to his viewpoint.

Tom had already worked over the Malfoy's, as Abraxas was one of his Knights. This was followed by the Blacks, specifically Walburga, Lucretia, and Orion who were also a part of his practically worshipped the ground he stepped on, as they should.

While Tom did not like doing menial labor and conversing with the idiots who often came into the shop, he knew it was for his cause and that was all that was important. He could stomach the filthy rats that came in. He could handle the lustful gazes of certain customers.

Tom was flipping through the latest release of Witch Weekly, rolling his eyes at the various comments from household witches over certain political figures in the Ministry of Magic. Now, instead of talking about important things, it was basically a mass gossip column with women of varying opinions and ages talking about the men they found most attractive. Currently, the holder of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award - it was a fairly new award, having begun only three years prior - was none other than Abraxas Malfoy.

Tom sighed, wishing that he had something better to do.

The door to the shop opened banging against the bell hanging above it. Tom's wish had been answered. Tom glanced over, seeing a rather short figure entering the shop. From where he was leaning over the counter-top, he could not see much detail other than the fact that this person was male and had a very small head of wild, inky, black hair.

The person immediately made a beeline for the bookshelf, looking up with interest.

Tom placed the magazine under the counter and straightened his robes out in order to appear at his most charming. Slipping from behind the counter, he approached the young man on the other side of the shop.

"Excuse me, but I am certain that you are too young to be shopping here."

It was a boy. A boy with very shocking features. He was pale like Tom was, but was also very short. Not the size of a first year but definitely not well into his teen years. His hair was shoulder length and was brushed into a very familiar hairstyle. What shocked Tom the most about this boy, were his eyes. Tom had only ever seen a color like that on his... on Hadrian.

The boy, who looked so much like Tom's deceased childhood friend, smiled up at him. "There isn't an age limit you know. I can walk practically anywhere in Knockturn Alley so long as I don't draw too much attention to myself."

Tom cocked an eyebrow. this boy even spoke very much like Hadrian had.

"Oh really?" Tom asked in amusement.

The boy simply smiled and turned back to the bookshelf, pulling out a book on potions and holding it out to Tom. "I'll be taking that one please?"

While Tom was a bit reluctant to sell a book from Borgin and Burke's to a young boy who especially looked a lot like his old... Hadrian, Tom knew that Borgin would not be pleased if he allowed a sale to walk out of the shop. He took the book from the boy and went to the counter where he'd add it to the log of outgoing objects and remove it from the list of acquired objects.

"Are you a Ravenclaw?" asked Tom.

The boy laughed. Merlin, his laugh was even the same. Tom could feel his heart pounding and he wasn't sure if he liked it or not.

"No. I'm a Hufflepuff."

Tom had always had amazing control over his emotions. Actually, his amazing control didn't really happen until after Hadrian... passed on. But that didn't matter because his control was amazing and it had been years since he allowed himself to gape at somebody. And yet here he was, in the middle of his job doing just that, to a Hufflepuff. The person who looked like his Hadrian so much was a bloody Hufflepuff.

The boy laughed, "I know that it's a shock. A lot of people underestimate us Hufflepuffs because of their misconceptions of what our House represents. I don't see how people can mistake it though. We work hard at everything we do, we are not scared to get her hands dirty in order to get something done, and once you have our loyalty you can never lose it. Quite frankly I think Hufflepuff is the best House of Hogwarts because we take anyone and aren't so rude as to only demand people of a certain blood status, intelligence level, or by how much courage they have."

Tom scoffed, "Slytherin is the best, sorry to break your heart."

The boy send him a pitying look. But why?

"You see, this is what makes it interesting. My Hogwarts House is Hufflepuff, and it was not the main house the Sorting Hat chose for me. I was supposed to be in Slytherin."

No. There was just no way. A Hufflepuff who was supposed to be in Slytherin? Really?

"And I know what you're thinking, how can this be possible? Well let me tell you something, It is possible to have the traits of more than one house. I affectionately call myself a Slytherpuff. If that's a bit too difficult for you to understand, think of it like this. Touch the people I care about and I will burn you to the ground. Or, offend or hurt my friends and you will die by poisoned biscuits. My personal favorite is, you can make me cry and cry and cry, and when I've cried enough tears I will drown you in them.

So you see, I'm an interesting mix. I am cunning and resourceful, I have ambition. I want to be well known. I have no qualms about working to get there. It's really simple if you think about it."

Tom's interest was captured. A Hadrian look-alike with Slytherin and Hufflepuff qualities. The very best of both. He'd be a good follower.

"I'm Tom Riddle," Tom said, holding out his hand.

The boy accepted the handshake. "I know. You were Head Boy and Prefect. I'm Haraldr James."

Tom's stomach dropped. So similar. Hadrian Jameson and Haraldr James.

"Pleasure," Tom smiled charmingly, wondering where this acquaintanceship would head.

* * *

 **A/N: First is done.**

 **-Hadrian Jameson died when Tom was 5. A few moments later, Haraldr James was born.**

 **-Hadrian performed a strong piece of magic through his blood, by vowing to always come back to Tom. Tom won't figure this out for a while.**

 **-I am a Slytherpuff and I had to make one of my characters a Slytherpuff, sorry.**

 **-As for Hufflepuff, I have to concede that Helga was the most welcoming as she said, 'I'll teach the lot and treat them just the same' and 'Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest and taught them all she knew'.**

 **-His last example with the drowning in tears is from a post I made on Tumblr about being a Slytherpuff. I can use it in my fics.**

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	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.**

* * *

All summer, little Haraldr James - a Halfblood Hufflepuff - visited Borgin and Burke's at least twice a week. He was always smiling and happy to engage Tom in conversation. The two built a rather sweet rapport with each other and Tom found himself actually enjoying another person's company, which hadn't happened in years.

"Tom, I'm going into my fourth year. Do you know any good curses?"

"Why?"

"There's this Gryffindor group that goes around picking on Hufflepuffs and sometimes I'm caught in the middle and I really don't appreciate it all. I figured that if I dealt with them sooner rather than later, I can save this year's new students."

Tom's eyes narrowed, "I never heard of anything like that happening while I was at Hogwarts."

"Of course not," Haraldr snorted. "They forced the Hufflepuffs into silence but I refuse to let it go any longer. I did say that if someone messes with my loved ones, I'd tear them apart. Well, I care about the children very much and I will not let some foolish, Gryffindor twat ruin the lives of more students. It's gone on long enough and I'm sick of it. Bullying doesn't make you special or important, it's makes you an arse and I have been bullied far too much in my young life to deal with more bullies."

Tom was completely besotted, because Haraldr really did not like Gryffindors and if that did not appeal to Tom's Slytherin self, he didn't know what would. Though how he managed to miss such a large amount of bullying while he was in school and had a position of power to put an end to it was a bit shameful. So Tom had no qualms about helping Haraldr learn some _special_ curses.

Other than those moments, the Hufflepuff was always in a happy mood. And he like coming around to see Tom.

Tom found out that Haraldr's mother was a pureblood and his father was a muggleborn. His mother had been a Slytherin and was a part of the Smith line, and his father had been a Hufflepuff. The Smiths were said to be descendants of Helga Hufflepuff, so if that was indeed a fact, than Tom was not surprised that Haraldr was in the House of Hufflepuff.

Tom got along exceedingly well with the boy and he knew that a big reason for that was because Haraldr resembled Hadrian a lot. In fact, Tom would go so far as to say that Haraldr _was_ Hadrian. If that was at all possible.

Tom fetched one of the books in the back of the shop, the kind that Borgin held for any pureblood families that needed to remove a few artifacts from their homes for the time being. For a fee of course. Usually because of Ministry interference. No one would ever know that Tom had put his hands on it, because Tom never got caught when doing anything. So he flipped through the book, looking for something that could possibly help him understand what was going on.

Haraldr was basically Hadrian's twin. Just a little bit older than Hadrian had been and he'd been killed. In fact, Hadrian was a few days over eleven years old when he died and that was thirteen years ago. Precisely the same age that Haraldr was currently. How interesting.

Tom didn't even know what he was looking for, he simply knew that in the Dark Arts book he might find the answer. He found chapters on Necromancy, he found chapters on Blood Magic, he found chapters about something called Bestiality. He skipped right over that chapter because that was just awkward.

Then his eyes landed on it. Reincarnation.

Reincarnation was considered a Dark Art, because it required sacrifice of blood and that meant it was part of Blood Magic. Blood Magic was illegal in Britain.

Tom's eyes flew over the words, his brain absorbing everything that he read. Reincarnation was a very special brand of magic. Very few could ever hope to achieve it. Those who did had to be pure of heart, of soul, and of magic.

Blood and a vow had to be given in order to the process to begin. If the person was as pure as the book claimed they had to be, then their wish to be reincarnated would come true. Tom had to think back to that day thirteen years ago. Hadrian's face and head had been covered in blood and Tom knew from personal experience, that Hadrian was magical. So maybe Hadrian's claim to always come back to Tom was enough to let him be reincarnated.

It would explain Haraldr's presence considering the boy was basically a replica of Hadrian. Reincarnations always looked the same.

So then… Hadrian's promise to always come back to Tom, wasn't just some lie to placate a worried child! Hadrian had come back! That meant that Haraldr wouldn't be some follower, oh no. Tom had to make sure that Haraldr could not live without Tom. Yes, because as the reincarnation of Tom's old friend, he was special.

The next time Haraldr came into the shop, Tom was there to greet him with the biggest smile he could manage. A smile that was in no way fake. After learning the truth of Haraldr's existence, Tom was a lot more open than before.

By the end of the summer, Haraldr happily referred to Tom as his friend and Tom was busy devising a way to make the reincarnation of his friend, remember his past life.

* * *

 **A/N: Another is done!**

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	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.**

* * *

Haraldr had to go back to Hogwarts, leaving Tom to continue his business by himself. As the months passed, Tom continued to amass a legion of followers that would gladly do his bidding no matter what. They were honored to be a part of Heir Slytherin's future for wizarding Britain.

During Haraldr's absence, Tom began his hunt for more objects to use as Horcruxes. Having already created too, his diary and the Gaunt ring, he needed more. More fail-safes. He wasn't a Slytherin for nothing.

After a little digging, Tom had finally managed to learn the location of Hufflepuffs cup, which also happened to be the location of Slytherin's Locket. Hepzibah Smith was also doing what Tom was doing. Attempting to collect all of the Founders Items. Not for the same reasons of course but the fact that she had two had severely lowered the difficulty for Tom. He charmed the two objects off of her, and then killing her which had been rather easy. And the poor House Elf was easily influenced into believing that it had committed the murder.

Tom was pleased with himself. He only had to find the appropriate time to turn both into Horcruxes.

He ended up making the Locket into a Hocrux next, and he wore always, to signify his relationship with his noble line. He felt proud, especially after learning how to Hepzibah had come into contact with a locket. She purchased it from Borgin and Burkes and Borgin had gotten it from none other than Tom's own mother. When Tom had enough followers, he would send Borgin a little wake up call. How dare he pay merely a Galleon for the great Salazar Slytherin's Noble Locket. He would learn very well not to underestimate this better line.

Tom was pleasantly surprised to find Haraldr in the Leaky Cauldron on Christmas Eve night. The boy was dressed warmly according to the weather, and was holding a small bag. The moment he saw Tom, his eyes lit up and he dashed on over.

It had been a gift, for Tom. No one but Hadrian had ever bought him a gift before, and that had been thirteen years ago, so he was unsure of how to accept it. But Haraldr insisted on it and Tom learned that this gift was a brand new wand holster for his arm. Made of dragon-hide.

Tom had not thought to get Haraldr any gifts, so he had to improvise at the last second. Hissing lightly to himself, he pulled Slytherin's Locket from his neck and stepped forward to slip it over Haraldr's head. With a small parselmagic spell, he made certain that only Haraldr would be able to remove the locket, and that anyone else who tried would receive grievous injury. Also, if anyone else tried to touch it other than he or Haraldr they would promptly be Stupefied.

He was the owner of the legendary Slytherin Locket and he was not taking any chances that someone - Dumbledore perhaps - would take an interest in Haraldr's new possession and try to remove it from him. Dumbledore always felt the need to put his nose where it didn't belong and Tom wasn't having any of it. Not. One. Bit.

Haraldr had taken to it like it was a treasure and smiled, promising to 'keep it safe, always'.

Tom felt like he'd succeeded. And his Horcrux would protect Haraldr at all costs.

* * *

The passing of Haraldr's birthday was celebrated with Tom in Fortescue's. Haraldr love sorbet and when Tom offered to get him some for finally making it to fifteen, he jumped the older wizard and pecked him on the cheek in gratitude.

Tom was simply happy to finally be happy again.

The rest of their summer followed in much similar fashion.

* * *

Haraldr started his fifth year on a high note. He sent Tom a letter every other day and was happy to tell him all that was going on in Hogwarts.

Haraldr had finally gotten his revenge on those bullies he'd told Tom about. After spending his summer with Tom he'd learned a plethora of spells to use and he'd finally done what he wanted, without getting caught too!

Tom was so proud.

For several months, they corresponded back and forth. They spoke of the end of the war and how some of Grindelwald's followers were still lurking about, trying to get revenge for their fallen leader. They spoke of how annoying they found Dumbledore to be and how he couldn't seem to keep his nose out of the Slytherins' business. Haraldr mentioned Dumbledore had been staring at him a lot recently and Tom was not pleased.

What if Dumbledore attempted to use Legilimency on his Haraldr? Dumbledore could do it. And he would just to spite Tom.

The dreaded news came Christmas day of 1945. Albus Dumbledore had decided to pull Haraldr aside and inquire about his locket, which was actually Tom's locket. In the barest of answers, Haraldr explained that it was a gift from a friend and that it was meant to protect him in times of need. Dumbledore tried to claim that it was a dark artifact - though it actually was - and attempted to remove it himself, only to have his hands burned in the process. All other attempts were met with perfect resistance and Haraldr was given detention with Dumbledore for no reason other than refusing to remove it.

And then Haraldr went to Dippet and told him what Dumbledore had done, apparently embellishing a few things to make it seem as if Dumbledore's dislike of Slytherins had played a large part in their kerfuffle, therefore making Haraldr seem like he was telling the truth. Dippet did not appreciate Dumbledore's attitude toward the Slytherins, Slughorn even less so.

Haraldr got away without further incident, but not without the wrath of Dumbledore hanging over his head.

Tom warned him to stay as far away from the old wizard as possible. Because Dumbledore never treated anything that could possibly have anything to do with Slytherin, as a good thing. Never any respect. Always scorn.

It was well into January, when Tom was working with a client, that the Wizarding Wireless Network had come alive, all music stopping as the announcer informed wizarding Britain that some of Grindelwald's followers were attacking Hogsmeade in an attempt to bring Dumbledore out into the open. And it was a Hogsmeade weekend for the students. Haraldr was planning to stock up on supplies.

Tom had left Borgin and Burke's post haste, ignoring the screaming witch behind him. He Apparated once safe to do so, appearing within the small alley behind the Hog's Head.

Screams filled the air and he could see Hogwarts students running for cover. Explosions covered the little village as wizards and witches ran back and forth. Walking among the mess, was none other than Albus Dumbledore, taking on at least ten wizards at once, with apparent ease.

Tom could do it then. Kill the old fool and have it easily blamed on the foreign wizards already shooting the Killing Curse at him, but he couldn't waste time. He had to find Haraldr. That was his top priority.

He hissed, demanding his magic to point him to his friend and to his Horcrux.

He felt the pull, it was warm and tingled down his spine, directing him to where he needed to go.

He ducked underneath a stray curse, sending a nasty cutting curse back in the same direction. He sidestepped a dead body, not caring that it was a Hogwarts student. They weren't Haraldr and that made them unimportant.

And then he saw it. Haraldr was in the middle of a duel with a grown wizard. The man had blond hair and a sneer worthy of a Malfoy. And he was yelling taunts about Haraldr being a weak child.

Without preamble, Tom let loose an overpowered severing charm, taking the man's head clean off. Haraldr spun around, instant relief covering his face when his eyes landed on Tom. The younger teen proceeded to limp on over, wrapping his arms around Tom and let out a cry that Tom never wanted to hear again.

"Haraldr, we need to leave," Tom said, pulling them both into a nearby alley where he could find a good point to prepare Haraldr for Apparition.

"Wh-where are w-we going?"

"Diagon Alley perhaps. The Leaky Cauldron," Tom said, moving to wrap his arms around the smaller wizard.

And suddenly, things were moving too fast. One second, Tom was holding Haraldr, the next, he was pushed to the cold, snow covered ground and a heavy weight landed on his stomach.

Haraldr let out a low cry, rolling off Tom and landing on the ground with a thump. Tom saw what had caused him to make such a noise and felt his heart drop. Not again. Haraldr was supposed to be the reincarnation of Hadrian but not to this extent!

His hands moved to block the blood that was flowing out of the large gash on Haraldr's chest. It ran from his left shoulder to his right hip and was much too large to cover completely. And Tom didn't know any Healing because he hadn't thought he'd need to learn any of it!

"Haraldr, you can't leave me! You can't!" A near perfect mimicry of his words from so many years ago.

Haraldr, though gasping and crying, was smiling at Tom. A familiar smile that Tom didn't want to see again. "Tom," he said softly. Too soft. "I'm not leaving for good."

 _No._

"I will always come back to you."

* * *

Tom numbly clutched Slytherin's Locket in his hand. How many times was this going to occur before he could finally be happy?

He knew who did it.

From their position, only one person had clear view of him. Only one person with that kind of aim.

With gritted teeth, Tom slipped the locket over his head and breathed deeply, his anger rising, festering within him like an untended wound. Poisoning him. Harsh, searing, biting.

Dumbledore would pay.

* * *

 **A/N: Another is done.**

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	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

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* * *

Tom Riddle, now going by his proper title, Lord Voldemort, smiled genially and greeted the various guests that had come to the Malfoy's Yule Ball in order to meet him. Abraxas had already introduced his nine year old son, Lucius, to his Lord. The boy was a spitting image of his father. Long, pale blond hair that hung to his shoulders and striking blue eyes.

The child was aiming for Slytherin, as any proper Slytherin raised Pureblood should. He knew his manners and addressed his father's Lord with admirable respect.

He'd then met Cygnus and Druella's children. Bellatrix, who was a second year Slytherin, Andromeda, who was a first year Slytherin, and Narcissa, who wanted to be in Slytherin but had to wait three more years. The girls were all polite and respectful. Bellatrix however, did catch his eye with her magic.

It was powerful and Tom knew instantly that she would be a great student. Top of her year apparently.

Moving on, he met the Macnairs and the Rosiers. Then the Crabbes and Goyles. Followed by the Lestranges, Jugsons, Averys, Rowles, and Carrows. Tom charmed all of them, easily manipulating them into liking him. The children feared and were awed by him, ensuring little minds would be easily molded to his benefit.

He'd been conversing with Abraxas when the blond suddenly looked over and smiled. "I hadn't expected Markus to show. He's been teaching his children consistently. The eldest is a boy and is the first Slytherin Head Boy since you were at Hogwarts, my Lord. The middle child is a sixth year and she is a Slytherin Prefect, and the last is a fifth year Slytherin and she is also a Prefect."

Tom turned his attention to the doors of the hall where one Markus Flint was leading his wife Merida into the room. They were followed by three people.

The couple searched the room, Markus noticing Abraxas easily. Probably the hair that gave him away.

Upon seeing Abraxas, he also saw Tom and instantly tugged his wife over to them, bowing slightly to his Lord.

Markus had certainly aged, though not too terribly. Fifteen years of travelling the world had left Tom a little disconnected, but he was back and seeing all these old faces again, was something else.

"My Lord," he nodded. "I would like to introduce you to my children."

The youngest stepped forward, she had long black hair and light green eyes. She curtsied. "I'm Ursula, sir."

"A pleasure."

The next daughter stepped forward, black hair pulled into a tight plait, light green eyes sparkling. She mimicked her younger sister. "I am Josephine, my Lord."

The final child, the one who was Head Boy this year, looked up and Tom's breath stuttered to a halt.

The boy - young man more likely - was a spitting image of Haraldr, just a little older and without any baby fat. His jaw was lean and angular. Skin a delicious pale shade that contrasted his pitch black, shoulder length hair quite nicely. And his eyes. Tom hadn't seen eyes so vivid in person, in seventeen years, having to subsist to his memories which would never be good enough.

The young man bow at the waist. "My Lord, I am Harish Flint."

Harish.

Hadrian, Haraldr, and now Harish.

Tom regarded the young adult, "Only Harish?"

"Harish Hamish, sir."

Hamish, a variation of the name James.

Hadrian Jameson, Haraldr James, Harish Hamish.

Tom felt his stomach flop. His heart was pounding wildly. This was Hadrian's most recent reincarnation! He'd found him! After so many years, he'd found him!

He fought to keep the joy from his face, because he wasn't going to let on that he was happy to meet a person he'd obviously never known about.

Instead he said, "I look forward to our acquaintanceship, Harish."

* * *

The Dark Lord had a plan in mind. He'd already singled out the children of his followers that would receive extra training. Bellatrix Black and Harish Flint until some grew older. Bellatrix may have been young, but she showed much potential and Tom was going to make it grow. On the other hand, Harish was going to be Tom's.

However, in order to seduce the young man, he needed a reason to be within his presence on a near constant basis when his schooling ended. Training it was.

Harish Hamish Flint was an intellectual and had a grasp of his magic that was very much like Tom's.

The beginning of their training, Tom was not easy. He started off with difficult curses and spells, forcing the young adult into what should have been massive defense. He was impressed when the boy was able to defend himself without so much as an issue, though his offensive training would certainly need work.

Against Voldemort he was but a child, against his father, he was the victor. Markus wasn't someone to laugh at either, so Tom could easily tell where Harish needed work and immediately set to fixing those areas. And if he just so happened to slip into the young one's personal space in order to physically settle him, all the better.

Harish was perfection. Born to a Slytherin family, reared in the Slytherin ways. Powerful like Tom. Interested in furthering his knowledge like Tom had been. Eager to learn all that he could from Tom.

And Tom intended to teach him all he knew.

All.

He.

Knew.

* * *

 **A/N: Another is done!**

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	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.**

* * *

"My Lord-"

"You may call me Tom, Harish," purred Tom, amused at the teenager who was flushed to the tips of his ears.

He'd simply been showing the boy proper dueling and the stances that would ensure a stronger hold on certain spells. Sometimes the strength of a spell could knock someone off their feet, be it their own spell or someone else's.

And if his hands brushed against the boy's hips a little too much, it was nothing to sneeze at.

"My lord, I don't think we should be doing this," commented the boy. "I don't think you do this with all of your other followers, and I don't want to deal with the jealousy of any others if they were to find out about this. And I certainly don't want my father to overreact and come to the wrong conclusion."

Tom couldn't help but smirk because Harish was so much like Hadrian and Haraldr and yet so different at the same time. Haraldr seemed to be very nurturing, whereas Hadrian was more knowledgeable and knew how to use that knowledge to his own benefit. So it seemed that his best friend was reincarnated into different temperaments like the Hogwarts houses. Hadrian was a Ravenclaw, Haraldr was a Hufflepuff, and Harish was a Slytherin. Any or all of them originally showed Slytherin qualities, and Harish was the only one who actually was a snake.

"There's nothing for you to worry about, _we_ know what is going on and should your father attempt to lay a hand on you without just cause, I have no issue and teaching him a lesson he'll never forget."

Harish's green eyes flashed with an unknown emotion, but the boy eventually nodded. "As you say, my lord."

* * *

Tom felt so proud of his little apprentice. Harish had come a long way in such a short amount of time. Nearly three years, and he was no doubt the best Death Eater Tom had. And Tom was extremely proud of him and the great lengths they had gone through together.

Harish came to him when he had problems. He wanted to know what Tom's opinion on anything was. Wanted him to be proud of him. But he was also very honest, and did not hold back in speaking his mind. Sometimes Tom did or said things that Harish thought were kind of stupid. And while he had thought he would be tortured in the beginning for being so blunt, he quickly learned that Tom let him get away with things and nobody else got away with.

At first he had said he thought it was an apprentice/tutor sort of connection between them, but eventually their friendly glances and fun tutoring changed.

Harish had noticed that Tom looked at him a certain way. Tom had not realized that he was looking at Harishin any sort of way, and had been fearful when confronted with questions over it. But he relinquished the information he knew and carefully told Harish who he was and why he was so important to Tom.

The young man had been skeptical of course, but after reading through the books Tom provided and seeing the two photographs of Tom's former friends, he was agreeable. Especially since he looked exactly like both of them but with a different hair style.

"You won't confuse me with them?" he had asked, sounding worried.

"You are all different people despite your similarities. Different likes and dislikes. Temperaments. Houses. While it's true that I became attached for selfish reasons, I wouldn't dream of treating you the same as Haraldr or Hadrian. You are your own person and the soul inside you is yours now."

Harish smiled then and leaned in to place a soft kiss on his lord's lips. "Then I guess I could allow myself to return your affections, my lord."

"Tom," the older wizards insisted. "Call me Tom, Harish."

* * *

The wedding between Harish Hamish Flint and Tom Marvolo Riddle was a small affair, neither wanting to draw the attention of negative Light wizards to them. The papers were filed carefully with an Imperiused officiate and the two disappeared from Britain for a while, to spend their time together.

Tom eagerly showed Harish all the places he'd traveled in his many years abroad. Albania - though not in the exact place he stashed his Horcrux - was their first stop, Tom educating the younger man on the earthen magicks deep within the soil. From there they went to Romania, where they observed the largest vampire coven in history that resided in Bran Castle. Vampire magic was always a point of interest. Tom then led them down to Tasmania to observe some of the most poisonous creatures in existence.

Harish listened to everything Tom had to say, posing questions and counter arguments that kept them up for hours, just talking about their observations and the possibilities both saw.

Tom hadn't had such fun since Haraldr and he spent Christmas at the Leaky Cauldron all those years ago. It was nice to know that he could still have a good time that had nothing to do with torturing unsuspecting fools or followers.

Upon Harish's suggestion, they visited Burma, Peru, and Nepal.

Harish acquired a White Bengal Tiger cub in Nepal, and Tom had picked up a Pyper - Viper/python mix - in Peru. Their returned to Great Britain was met with low fanfare and joyous greeting.

Tom was finally happy again.

* * *

It was the year 1970 and several of his followers had children going into Hogwarts. Voldemort was making plans and with Abraxas swindling his way into the Minister's pocket, they were moving forward at a rapid pace.

Within two years, Voldemort would begin the War on Great Britain, where he'd start taking over the Ministry and infiltrating Hogwarts. With so many young children with such promising futures wanting to serve him, within ten to twenty years he'd have mass numbers of followers in high positions in the government and in educational facilities.

It was all going according to plan.

His beloved was currently the Junior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic herself and he couldn't have been more proud.

Harish knew what to do and he did his job well. There was never anything to worry about. Especially since the woman did not like Albus Dumbledore and refused to listen to his 'advice'. As a former Ravenclaw alumni, Bagnold was smart enough to not listen to a senile old man simply because he defeated a Dark Lord in the past. Though she still wasn't too bright if she willingly released information to a Junior worker under her leadership.

Yet it all aided Voldemort's cause in the end, so he didn't care if she continued to tell Harish her secrets.

"Love, are you ever going to come to bed?" asked Harish, wrapping his arms around Voldemort's shoulders and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Voldemort card in his fingers through his beloved's hair and give a peaceful sigh. "Let's get to bed then."

* * *

Harris stared at the leather bound book in his hands. It was black and accented with gold markers around the edges. On the back was engraved, Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Tom had given him this book so that whenever he went out on raids or had to go on some sort of trip that Harish could not join him on, he would have some form of Tom to talk to. Even though the Tom in the diary was very verbose and a little cocksure, Harish cared about him just as much as he cared for his own Tom.

As his husband had been looking into spells that would allow Harish to be immortal, Harish was looking in the spells that would allow his next reincarnation to remember their past lives. With a war on the horizon, the young man constantly worried about whether or not he or Tom we're going to be hurt. As Tom was the one with immortality protecting him, Harish was the one that was in constant danger. However, he was not willing to mutilate his soul simply to be immortal. So what he needed was a spell that would allow his next self to remember all of his former lives. That way, Tom would always have a form of him throughout his existence and it would always be the same person because all the personalities would be together.

The diary provided much information and extended new lines of thinking that he hadn't even thought possible. But with these various ideas in mind he was able to search Slytherin's library to find the books he needed.

Blood Magick was a very dark subject and not many people had the power to go to such lengths. But as Hadrian Jameson had vowed to remain with Tom forever he had enacted a very strong blood ritual for reincarnation. And if each and every incarnation after him managed to make the same vow and was actually found worthy in the eyes of magic to complete the vow, then that meant that Harish and his future incarnations would also have the power to do Blood Magick.

There were only two books available, but he studied them from first to last page. He memorized the contents within them. He did everything he could to make sure that he understood what he was reading, including looking up tomes from different time periods. There had to be a ritual of some sort that would make every incarnation that came after him remember everything they needed to. And if there wasn't one that existed yet, he was going to make one.

* * *

 **A/N: Another is done!**

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	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.**

 **-I made myself cry at the very end.**

* * *

Harish stroked Ramchandra's back as he flipped through the Warding book. The tiger was no longer a cub and had grown extremely large in the past six years. He was a very prim and proper sort of creature and was a young lord of class and sophistication.

Of course that was only when company visited. Rammy was a mushball of affection once he and Harish were alone together. His blue eyes shined intensely as they watched Harish mark down notes about certain Runes that could be linked together through Runic Chains.

A trill from the feline had the young wizard pulling away from his hard work. "I know I'm working too hard, but I just have to develop the method. You never know when life will end."

The big cat seemingly quirked a brow at Harish's answer and gave a low growl.

Harish held his hand up as if in surrender. "Well what do you want me to do?!"

The tiger let loose a roar. Not one of anger, as they'd been together long enough for Harish to tell the difference. This was a call. A signal. A summoning.

A moment later, three little, white cubs scampered into the room, tripping over each other in hopes of winning their little race. Their mother Shristi, followed at a more sedate pace, head lifted regally as she took her seat on the lounge beside her mate.

Bending down, Harish grabbed one of the cubs and plopped her on his lap. Her name was Vijaya and she was an energetic little thing, always ready to play and have fun.

Rammy head butted the cub and sent Harish a telling look, making him sigh.

"We're on the brink of war, Rammy-"

He received a snuffle of annoyance at the use of the nickname.

"-I wouldn't bring a child into this world at the moment. Not when something could go horribly wrong. Not when they could grow up without me."

Rammy huffed and trilled once more, before settling down beside his mate as the cubs trickled about the drawing room, playing chase.

Harish was given something to think of however.

Would he ever get to have children with Tom?

* * *

"Dumbledore has formed an opposing faction and labeled them in honor of his Phoenix," Tom said a few weeks later, doing his paperwork at the dinner table.

Harish's head fell into his palm as he sighed. "What is it?"

Tom's lips quirked attractively, "The Order of the Phoenix."

The younger wizard stared at his husband for a second, before cracking a laugh or ten. "And the _objective_? Or is it simply to tear down all of our efforts?"

Tom placed the paper down and linked his fingers, completely ignoring the food the House Elves had made for him. "Not only does the senile, old fool seek to destroy what we have been working so meticulously to achieve, but he plans to abolish all laws in favor of Pureblood traditions and wants us to connect with the Muggle World."

Both shared a look of disgust at the very thought.

"He thinks that they will understand us and want to be 'our friends'," sneered Tom, bunny marking the words. "He seems to have forgotten the three times in history our people were burned at the stake simply for having magic. Or the times that innocents in general were burned alive simply because they were assumed to have magic.

Disobey the reverend, you're possessed by the devil. Eat pork, you're a despicable being. Attempt to move above your station and you need corrective, enforced punishment."

The Dark Lord then mumbled, "It's okay to kill a child needlessly but not okay to thank Magick for blessing us. Barmy bastard."

Harish knew that was a dig against Dumbledore especially. Tom had shared his thoughts and experience in losing Harish's former incarnation, Haraldr. Harish believed that Dumbledore was the one to murder the boy and it was just another reason for him to despise the old codger.

Harish placed a soothing hand on Tom's arm and smiled comfortingly. "We'll take care of him and his precious Order of Flaming Flamingos, darling. Don't worry."

With a very un-lord-like snort, Tom nodded, taking Harish's hand and placing a kiss on his knuckles.

"Yes, we will."

* * *

Severus was a twitchy little thing, Harish realized. Adorable too, but very twitchy. Though being in the presence of one of the most powerful wizards in history had to have played a part in that twitchiness.

"I have overheard a prophecy regarding you, my Lord," the teen said, eyes trained on the floor.

The Dark Lord went rigid and Harish leaned closer to hear clearer.

"Speak," ordered Tom, all business now.

"Dumbledore decided to give a job interview to Cassandra Trelawney's granddaughter, Sibyll, in a private room at the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade. I was able to hear some of their conversation and part of the prophecy before the barkeep found me eavesdropping and threw me from the establishment.

 _'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies.'_ "

Severus' head bowed lower. "I apologize for not learning of the rest, my Lord."

Harish turned to regard his husband, who looked ready to spit fire. Deciding that he was much too emotional to speak any further, Harish took over.

"Thank you for your work, Severus. Go home and rest and return tomorrow at noon for possible debriefing."

The young follower bowed once against and backed from the room.

Harish sealed the doors with a flick of his wand and set up a silencing charm. "Tom?" he asked hesitantly.

"I need… to stop that prophecy."

"We need to _know_ all of it first," Harish corrected. "You can't just jump into these things, love."

Tom sighed, "I need to know all of it. Who do we know that is pregnant and due within the next few months?"

Harish sighed, "The grapevine at work says that the Potter's, Bones', Longbottoms, Malfoys, MacMillans, Crabbes, Goyles, Parkinsons, Weasleys, Zabini, Smiths, and several others are expecting."

"Who is expecting in July?"

"The Potters and the Longbottoms."

He waited as his husband thought everything through.

"You can't… be thinking of killing a child, are you?" he asked hesitantly, feeling sad at the very thought.

"They will kill me, Harish."

"All we know is that they have the ' _power to vanquish_ ' you. Kill was not mentioned. We need all the facts first, Tom Marvolo Riddle!"

"Fine, fine! Facts first!"

* * *

Harish had never been in a raid before, but with so many of the Knights out of commission from either injury or familial expectations, Harish had to join his husband on the battlefield.

It was eleven forty-seven on the eve of the first day of August. The sun had gone down hours ago, leaving Harish minimal time to prepare.

He was a fighter, but his skills were better directed toward teaching and educating others. He didn't like fighting and was saddened that a war had been required at all.

Taking up his Runic Ring, Harish slipped it on over his wrist and tied the ends together. It had taken time and effort, but he was certain that should he perish this night, the Ring would activate upon his promise. Blood Runes were illegal in Britain but Harish didn't care about petty laws. He had a promise to keep and he'd keep it.

The runes glowed a bright red for a mere second, before bleeding back into the dark brown of the twine they'd been meticulously carved on.

Harish bent down an rubbed his head against Rammy's, "If I do not return this evening, know that I love you very much and that you were the best familiar anyone could ask for." He'd left a note in his room instructing Tom to deposit the family of tigers back in Nepal if he did die. He didn't want their comfort to be at stake simple because of him.

The tiger let out a pained whine, but headbutted him anyway.

Without looking back, Harish strode from the room with a confidence that he didn't truly feel.

* * *

"MY LORD!"

The screech echoed through the small village, almost loud enough to shatter the windows.

Spells were flying, curses were thrown about. Harish had been fighting alongside Bellatrix. She was a darling most of the time, except when fighting. He and Tom had taught he well and it was nice to see the fruits of their labors before them.

But Harish had been trying to concentrate when he was hit with a spell. It was probably the most terrifying curse he'd ever encountered.

The air around him was gathering. Spinning round and round. A vortex much too fast for him to break through. And the air was slowly receding from him. He couldn't breathe!

And so cued Bella's hoarse wail for her lord, as she was still trying to fight off their gathered opponents on her own.

And Voldemort descended upon them with a fury that could tear Olympus apart. He unleashed the largest serpent of flame that Harish had ever witnessed, eradicating the Aurors and Order members from existence.

Harish panicked and looked around for his wand. He dove for it, his last breaths leaving him with the effort. Wrapping shaking fingers around the hilt, the wizard covered himself in the Bubblehead Charm and finally breathed in relief.

It was actions like that that made him such a good wizard. Thinking outside the box.

Of course his relief was outlived when the simple vortex of wind suddenly became a flaming typhoon.

There were no flame resistant charms on his clothing. The Anti-Apparition and Anti-Portkey Wards had been thrown up minutes ago.

He cast Aguamenti, in an attempt to create a geyser effect to shoot himself up out of the flames, but the fire was so hot and the water was so cold, that it steamed and evaporated on contact.

" **HARISH**!"

Realizing what would happen to him and feeling just a little cocky for knowing that it would, Harish concentrated his magic and lifted his wand to the sky, the small hole at the top of the burning maelstrom barely giving him any room to see the darkness above him.

As fire constricted him to a small space, edging in tighter and tighter around him, Harish Hamish Slytherin sent off one last spell, illuminating the sky with glowing, green letters.

 **'I will always come back to you.'**

The Runic Ring burned against his wrist and he could feel it deep inside of him being. It had _worked_.

An anguished scream rent the air as darkness and flame overtook him and he was purified through fire and triumph at his genius finally paying off.

 _I love you, Tom._

* * *

Voldemort would kill them all. He'd kill every single member of the Order of the Phoenix.

Dumbledore would suffer before his death. And it would be glorious!

* * *

 **A/N: Another is done!**

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	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

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 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.**

 **-Harry sees some of Harish's memories.**

* * *

"What's on his wrist?"

Amidst the relief of finally pushing her child out, Lily had noticed the light, red stripe around her son's left wrist, which drew the attention of James as well as the Healers.

Healer Brandt carefully took her little Harry's arm in hand and looked it over, confusion masking his features. "It looks like... Runes."

Lily demanded to hold her son. As the resident Rune Mistress, she would be able to decipher whatever they were. She took the babe into her arms, cooing to keep him calm as she looked over the chains of braided Runes wrapped around his wrist.

Protection, Love, Remembrance, Eternity, plus several others that she didn't even recognize. "Was this on him the entire time?"

"I do not know," said Healer Brandt. "I hadn't noticed until you said something. But perhaps it will wash off."

It didn't. The markings remained, almost as if they had been tattooed on.

"What does it mean, Lils?" James asked, looking worried.

Her lips pursed. "None of the Runes _I_ know mean anything dangerous. It's the others that I find questionable. We'll just have to wait and see if something happens with them."

She hoped everything would remain alright.

* * *

Harry was only three months old, but he seemed a bit more mature than either James or Lily had anticipated a baby to be. Several of their friends had commented that Harry tended not to pay attention most of the time. His mind seemingly elsewhere as he stared off into space. But he understood when people spoke to him.

At three months, the little boy was already of sound enough mind to understand what he liked and didn't like. Babies shouldn't be able to tell the difference in food until they had at least attained nine or ten months, but Harry adamantly refused to eat anything with carrots or peas in it and seemed to begrudgingly take the mashed apples.

The boy's face pulled into a deadpan stare whenever he was tickled and he sometimes rolled his eyes when his godfather tripped over himself. But he giggled when Peter hurt himself.

Their son was a strange one.

* * *

At six months old, Harry James Potter looked like neither of his parents. His hair was the same, messy bird's nest that was common in the Potter line, but unlike the Potters who always had brown hair, his was black as pitch.

His eyes were an unearthly shade of green that they were positive came from Lily, but her eyes weren't so vivid in color nor shape. Harry's eyes were more slanted and almond like whereas Lily's were naturally wide.

He was also much more pale than either of them and considering that Lily was a redhead, that was saying something.

"Harry do you want some apples, dearest?"

"No," came the bland reply. Instead, he leaned over the table and grabbed the bottle of juice.

James and Lily shared a worried look but left the matter alone.

* * *

Nine month old Harry was a wonder.

"Harry, where did you go?" asked Lily as she set his bowl of mashed apples in front of him. He'd been staring at the wall for the past few minutes, unblinking. He tended to do it a lot.

"Tiger," the boy said, grabbing his small spoon and dipping it into his food. "I want tiger."

If only James was home, then she'd be able to asked him if he knew why her son knew about tigers. Perhaps it was part of a joke that he and Sirius had played maybe?

"But what would you do with a tiger, sweetheart?" she asked, smiling at how strange the request was.

"Name it."

Well then. She walked into that one. Was it normal for nine month olds to have such acerbic personalities?

"But where would we get a tiger, love?" she asked, hoping to get his attention elsewhere. She even pulled out her wand, creating sparkles as she waved it from side to side.

He barely spared her or her magic a glance as he answered, "Nepal."

Why did her son know about a country that she was certain no one in their house had ever talked about before?

"Are you sure you don't want another animal?"

"No. Tiger. Nepal… Please?"

* * *

"Our son wants us to get him a tiger from Nepal," Lily casually stated as she folded her dressing gown over the back of her chair.

James choked on his tea, "A _what_? How and why?"

She shrugged, "I don't know how but he knows things. I've never talked about Nepal before, have you?"

"No. I barely know anything about it. Only that their magical community is really small."

The two sat in silence, trying to make out the reason that their son knew things he shouldn't.

* * *

"Harry! Let go of it, it could kill you!"

Harry was forcefully summoned away from the large serpent that had slithered into their yard. Lily backed away from the creature, having recognized it. It was Voldemort's familiar.

Throwing up a shield, she ran into the house and cut her hand with a small hex, placing her bloodied appendage on the wall and activating full lock down of the wards. An enraged hiss from outside told her that the snake had been forced from the property, but she highly doubted that it would work to keep… _him_ out.

They couldn't remain here any longer. Not when the Dark Lord would surely know about their residence within hours.

She clutched her son close and prayed to a God she had never given much thought to. Prayed for guidance. For safety.

* * *

"I think we should make it Sirius," James said. "He's Harry's godfather after all."

Lily nodded, knowing that Sirius did seem like the best choice. Said Marauder however, did not agree.

"I think we should make Peter the Secret Keeper," he suggested.

Peter immediately began to stutter and shake his head repeatedly, but James and Lily were already seeing the benefits of the idea.

"Everyone would assume that it's Padfoot and he could take the flak so Wormtail could stay under their noses!"

And so it was decided that Peter Pettigrew became the Potter's Secret Keeper.

* * *

Harry did not like the new arrangement. The family going into hiding made it impossible for him to go outside, let alone to see his friend Neville. Also, he still hadn't gotten the tiger that he wanted and refused to give up talking about it. Alluding to it. Or just flat out bemoaning the fact that he didn't have a tiger. A tiger would 'make it better' or so he claimed. 'Would fix _evyting_ '.

His first birthday was a small affair, consisting of only the Potters, plus Moony, Padfoot, and Wormtail. Harry was in a terrible moon the whole evening and threw anything that he got his hands on, at Peter.

The boy glared at the man and even hissed out the word, "Twaitor!"

While James and Lily had shared a concerned look over that, they didn't say anything, just let everyone laugh it off as a joke.

* * *

Lily's teeth chattered. Samhain was always a terrifying night in her opinion. Beside her, James was sitting comfortably, reading a book. Between then, sat Harry, drinking a cup of juice.

He laid a pudgy, little hand on her arm and said, "Be at peace."

Before she could ever question the meaning of those word, a loud bang from the front door alerted them to danger.

James was on his feet instantly, wand at the ready. "Lily, take Harry and get out of here! I'll come to you when it's over."

She grabbed the boy and tried to Apparate, finding that she only remained in place.

"Bullocks!" James hissed, pushing her toward the stairs. "You looked up that ritual, I know you did. If worst comes to worst, use it."

"But-"

"Take Harry and go hide!"

He rushed out to the foyer, where she could hear the door being blasted off its hinges. James' yell reached her and the meaning was very clear.

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's _him_! Go! I'll hold him off-"

A shrill, cackling of mad laughter filled the house and Lily sprinted up the stairs. She slammed and locked the nursery door, placing Harry in the cot and kneeling down beside it.

"Harry? Momma loves, you know? Daddy loves you."

Her son's guileless, green eyes gazed at her through the bars.

His little hand reached through and she took hold of it, a tear running down her cheek.

"I wuv you, mummy. I miss you."

He'd known. She didn't understand how but she was certain that her baby had known this would happen. He'd called Peter a 'traitor' and for good reason apparently. They had been betrayed. And maybe the tiger would have made things better. But it was too late for that now.

A shout from downstairs cut off midway and Lily's eyes closed in resignation. She knew what had happened and she knew what was about to happen.

Taking up her wand, Lily - for the final time in her life - spilled her own blood, drenching the Rune Ring on her son's wrist with her life's essence. The Runes glowed crimson for a few seconds, letting her know that it worked.

Should she die, her soul would then attach itself to Harry and as a last resort, would take everything that wished to do her baby harm, and rebound them.

The door banged open and she whirled around to face the cloaked figure who stood taller than she. He blocked the doorway as an eerie silence overcame them.

She expected to be murdered on the spot, but instead, he simply stepped into the room, red eyes glowing beneath the cowl of his hood. What she could see of his face, showed inhuman, serpentine features. He'd become a monster.

Her heart pounded in her ears.

"Step aside, girl."

He wanted her to move? The greatest Dark Lord in history wasn't just killing her to get to her son? She? A Mudblood? Didn't he murder Muggleborns?

She lifted her chin arrogantly and sneered to the best of her ability, "No."

"Stand aside you foolish chit!" He hissed, anger obviously rising.

Lily would never regret her following actions. Nor would she live long enough to do so.

"Not Harry. You can have me. Kill me, but leave him alone."

"Stand aside, now!"

" _NO_!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

And the last thing Lily Potter nee` Evans saw, was the shade of green she'd grown so used to over the past fifteen months. She welcomed it gladly, proud that she'd managed to do all she could for her son as she fell.

* * *

Lord Voldemort gazed down at the child in the cot, who was staring up at him with eyes too knowledgeable to belong to a child. While not personally knowing what he'd been like as a child, he'd heard stories from his former matron about the unnatural intelligence in his eyes.

This boy showed the very same thing. He needed to be eliminated before a second Tom Riddle was walking around with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord.

Raising his Yew wand, he prepared to do what Harish would have no doubt been disappointed in, but it had to be done.

"Tom."

He flinched.

The Potter child had said his name.

Those eyes glowed with familiarity. Why did the boy know his name? What had that old fool been telling the Potters about him? How dare he expose Lord Voldemort's secrets!

He'd kill the fool, after he finished off his potential murderer and made his next Horcrux.

"Avada-"

"I forgive you, Tom."

"-Kedavra!" Voldemort finished, eyes widening in horror as the boy spoke nearly fluent, taking the green curse to the face and merely blinking. He shook his head a few times and continued to stare up at him. The curse converged into one space above the child's right eye, etching into the pale skin that seemed so familiar. The Rune of Sowilo glared back at him and the building power in the room rose until all he could see was a bright, green light that he knew very well but had never been on the receiving end of.

He could feel a tearing within his being, as if being ripped apart. His body was rendered into nothingness and his soul ejected from the building that began falling down around them from the backlash of the pent up curse.

And all the while, the Potter child's hand was raised, as if waving farewell to him.

* * *

Harry Potter stared up at the horse-like woman who dared shove him in a cupboard. He was not a broom, he did not belong in a cupboard. Did she not know this?

Barely given any time to rest or think of his parents and he's already being tossed about? How rude.

* * *

 **A/N: Another is done!**

 **-Harry has only a couple of memories from Harish at the moment, but his mastery of the English language did come from all the memories he's been stuck watching. Basically, he's a lot smarter than normal kids.**

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	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WEATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.**

* * *

 _"Harish… don't you ever just wish that we didn't have to go through all of this? That we could just get what we want without having to deal with fools like Dumbledore?"_

 _"Every day of my life, Tom."_

 _Tom smiled and pecked him on the cheek. "Here's to hoping."_

"Boy! Why are you lazing about?!"

Harry James Potter rolled his eyes because he was still weeding the garden despite not going at the pace Petunia wanted. Honestly, unlike _some people_ he could actually multitask.

Harry seeing visions of the man named Tom wasn't anything new. In fact, he couldn't go at least a day without seeing something. That vision in particular had been memorized ages ago. And every now and then a new vision would show up.

Harry wished his life was easy as the Harish man's seemed to have been. Instead, he was stuck living with Muggles, and not even pleasant ones. Lily had hated Petunia and had nary a good thing to say about the woman or her offspring. Why did Albus Dumbledore decide to put him here?

In fact, from what little visions Harry had gotten thanks to his magic, he was supposed to have gone to Padfoot. Padfoot had been there. He'd given Harry to the Hagrid fellow to watch over but he'd never come back and Harry didn't know what had happened to him.

So he was stuck with his mother's errant sibling and her lard of a husband and his miniature clone.

At the age of four, Harry Potter was a lot smarter than his cousin who was a month older than he. His grasp of the English language had been vast from a younger age and now that his mouth had been trained in properly pronouncing the vowels and consonants, he no longer slurred his words or improperly sounded words out.

Dudley was lucky if he could get it across that he wanted food without using hand signals. Out of the students in their pre-primary school, Tykes n' Tots - worst name for an educational facility ever - Dudley was the worst in the grade and Harry was the best.

Of course, when he managed perfect scores across his first report, Vernon and Petunia had received a nasty shock when Dudley did not do so well and were required to go to the school with both boys to confer with the teacher, Miss Bigby.

They spun a semi-compelling yarn about how Harry took credit for all of Dudley's work and how he cheated off the other boy all the time. The teacher took their words with a nod and then offered to test both he and Dudley right then and there to prove themselves.

Petunia and Vernon agreed and so the boys were forced on either side of the room and given tests. Small, ten questions that simply required them to fill in the correct bubble. She read off the questions, since normal four years olds couldn't read like Harry could, and then the answers which were labeled A-D.

Dudley demonstrated nothing amazing. He mixed of D and B and failed his entire test while Harry had actually finished his long before she had begun reading the questions.

Harry received the same grade he'd been getting since school began and Miss Bigby informed his aunt and uncle that Dudley was too busy whinging about food to pay attention in class. The mini whale ate too much and they were warned explicitly to get him on a proper eating schedule lest he'd become too unhealthy to help when the time came.

Harry was accused of using his freakishness on the teacher of course and was sentenced to his cupboard without food for three nights.

That was the first straw.

The second came in the form of Dudley attempting to bully him and breaking his leg by falling down the stairs. Vernon had raised his belt to Harry that time and only Harry's bare grasp of magic had him capable of lessening the blow.

And just now… being treated like a slave when he was just four years old. Especially when all Dudley did was eat and watch the telly. He'd had enough.

Harry brushed his dirty hands off on his ragged, threadbare trousers that had once been Dudley's. They were two sizes too large and stained from repeated wearings.

He'd waited before acting. He didn't want to act rashly in case they had a change of heart but it was obvious that Petunia and Vernon did not plan to change anything about themselves or their son and therefore Harry wasn't going to be kind.

It had been a year since the belt incident and his grasp on his magic - thanks to some of those visions he'd always got - was a lot better. He could do some things. The Muggles didn't know that he knew he was magical but oh the surprise that was in store for them.

Harry walked into the house, completely ignoring Petunia as she began to scream at him for daring to enter while completely filthy and having not finished his work. Without preamble, Harry waved a hand and stuck the woman to the ceiling, enjoying how her eyes dilated in horror.

Her high pitched wailing got Dudley's attention and the boy hobbled into the room on his forearm crutches. Harry stuck him to the ceiling as well just because he felt like it.

It was time to iron out details.

"Your idiot offspring tried to hit me and fell down the steps because he's too fat to catch himself. You let your husband beat me for it. That ends now, or else I will leave you up there. _You_ are my guardian at present, not him. He touches me again, my magic can do worse than stick you to ceilings," he bluffed. While he knew from his visions that his magic could do worse, it didn't mean he could actually do any of it. But a little fib here and there wouldn't do him any harm.

Dudley was screaming for his mummy to make Harry let him down, Petunia was caterwauling for the whole neighborhood to hear.

"Honestly," he tsked. "What would the neighbors think?"

Her mouth snapped shut instantly. Vanity would be her downfall.

"I am a human being, whether you wish to believe it or not. I do not think myself to be better than you, but I do know that you aren't better than me in the least. Shall I remind you that there are despicable people out there, who can do what I do, but would slaughter you for even glaring at them the wrong way? I could kill you but what would that do for me? Nothing."

Petunia gulped, her fear becoming obvious. Dudley's cries persisted.

Though it disgusted him to say - for some inexplicable reason too - he had to add, "I'm sure Dumbledore wouldn't be too happy. What would happen if he were to find out that I was somehow killed by your husband or permanently damaged? What could he do to you? He, whom everyone in the magical world reveres and fears and wouldn't hesitate to please should he ask."

He was laying it on thick. From what Harry could remember Lily and James saying and meeting the man in person, plus the few visions he'd gotten that spoke of the man, Dumbledore was a very important political figure as a defeater of the former Dark Lord and leader of the Order of the Phoenix which opposed the Dark's regime.

Dumbledore didn't care about Harry's health, else he would have shown up at some point to check up on him. He didn't care for Harish or Tom either. He had left Harry with these people for a reason and while Harry didn't know the reason for it, he knew it wasn't good.

But still, he held power and Petunia at least knew that, if her widened eyes were anything to go by.

"I see you comprehend my meaning. I will be taking the pig's second bedroom, because a cupboard isn't good enough. You will feed me every meal from now on and allow me use of the toilet whenever I so choose. I will do my chores so long as your soon-to-be diabetic son does work as well. Catering to his every whim has put his health at risk. He could die because of you. Some work will do him good. Or I'll just assume you don't care about his health.

You have two children in your dubious care and you abuse both of us, but at different ends of the spectrum. No four year old should weigh almost one hundred pounds, Aunt Petunia!"

Petunia's frazzled eyes turned to see Dudley who had finally calmed down enough to a bare whimper and sniffle every few seconds.

Harry did not like Dudley in the least but he could at least recognize that Dudley too was being abused. Over-indulgence in his food addiction could cause him serious harm later. Harry had asked the librarian down the street about it and she told him what she could, a little skeptical because of his diminutive stature.

Dudley could very well die because of his parents and while Harry didn't like him, he didn't wish death on him. That was a tad extreme for two warring four year olds.

Harry left the two up there for an hour to get his point across. In the meantime, he'd bathed, moved what little possessions he had into his new bedroom and moved all of Dudley's accumulated junk into his own room, and even made himself lunch.

By the time he'd let them down, Petunia was strangely silent and Dudley was watching his hands like they were going to attack him.

Vernon was in for a very rude awakening that evening at dinner.

* * *

Harry James Potter awoke abruptly, heart pounding in terror. His dream - or was it a vision? - had probably been the most terrifying to date.

He'd been burned alive. Or rather… Harish had been burned alive. Or was he Harish? They looked the same.

But the flames had been so hot. And Tom. He could hear Tom's anguished screams. Harry was sure that Tom and Harish were either family or maybe married like Harry's aunt and uncle were. They kissed often enough.

Whether these were in the past, happening currently, or had yet to occur, they were a tad scary.

Harry ran his hands over his arms just to make sure that he had indeed not burned to death. That it was just a dream/vision.

With shudders wracking his small frame, Harry laid back down, but sleep never came.

* * *

 **A/N: Another is done!**

 **-My cousin Jordan was diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes at the age of 10 for weighing over 200lbs. Over-indulgence has cost him years of his life and now he needs to take insulin every day, twice a day.**

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 **Check out my other Harrymort/Tomarry fics!**

 **See ya! :D**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WEATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.**

 **-I wrote this in half an hour!**

* * *

Harry Potter looked out at the bright, blue sky of Privet Drive. He'd been patient. He'd waited a considerable time. After his and Petunia's little heart to heart - or rather, Harry pulling her head from her arse - he'd been treated fairly well compared his first three years living with her.

There was a mutual agreement going on in the house. Harry did the gardening and the dishes as they always provided best results. In return, Petunia was able to preen to the rest of the neighbors that her garden and lawn were the best kept among the community. She'd already won three competitions thanks to Harry taking care of the flora.

Dudley was put on a diet mere days after the discussion and had been forced to take up swimming classes as well as kickboxing. For nearly a year, Dudley was much too tired to bully anyone and his gang had ended up disbanded without their larger than life leader to be the main threat for them.

Primary wasn't so terrible in Harry's opinion.

Dudley wasn't doing any better in class, but health wise he seemed to be better. He'd slimmed down quite a bit and while he was still about two sizes bigger than Harry was, Harry was no longer swimming in the clothing he received that used to be his cousin's.

Petunia at least cared enough about her son to help him, which meant that she couldn't be so terrible of a person. Harry wasn't her child and she wasn't required to pamper or even love him. He didn't need birthdays and holidays celebrated. He may want a little surprise every now and then, but it wasn't needed by the law.

Some children never even got to eat, so the fact that she had dubiously 'taken care' of him for at least three years before the agreement, had been fine enough.

He'd only been hit once and while not exactly starved, he could have been fed more. Though he did know that misbehavior usually got kids sent to their rooms without food. His classmates talked about it constantly.

Not that he was excusing their treatment of him, just that he knew it could have been a lot better, but also a lot worse. Harry satisfied himself with the knowledge that he was the heir to a very wealthy family and whenever he could make it down to Gringotts, his financial situation would be corrected instantly.

No longer would his aunt and uncle have to pay for him. That one thing did annoy him. That Dumbledore just decided to dump a baby on someone's doorstep in the middle of a November night, and not leave one shred of evidence of the child's existence or any way to pay for the child.

Was he seriously that stupid? Terribly rude to do such without asking. And then to threaten the woman!

The reason Petunia had taken his threat of Dumbledore so terribly was because the old codger had dared to threaten her family! There was no wonder the Dursleys had hated him, knowing they didn't want him and couldn't get away from him without damage being done to them in return. Hell, if Harry had been put through the same thing, he'd hate himself as well.

So technically it was all Dumbledore's fault that Harry was treated like a menace to society for those first three years. If he hadn't threatened them, they probably would have left Harry at an orphanage or given him away to foster care or something much more manageable.

From his own knowledge and his visions of the man, Harry had developed a great dislike for Albus Dumbledore and wanted nothing to do with the man. But he was going to be going to Hogwarts and unfortunately the man was the Headmaster there, which left the boy in a tight situation. He did not know the full amount of power that Dumbledore possessed over the whole of Magical Britain and he would have to tread very carefully until he could act.

Harry was only ten for Merlin's sake! He didn't even have any magical training! Just whatever he could manage without a wand and that certainly wouldn't be enough to challenge one of the greatest wizards of the age!

He had to play it close to the chest and figure out exactly how much power Dumbledore hand under his control. Which probably meant a lot of acting on his part.

Harry sighed in frustration because he didn't want to have to play to the old man's specifications, but he may very well have to. Gryffindor.

His parents were Gryffindors so it shouldn't be too bad, but it was just… he didn't like rowdy people and he detested any who felt the need to be braggarts or usurpers. Gryffindor as a House wasn't the problem. From what he knew, mum, dad, Padfoot, Moony, and the traitor had all been in the house. Brave and loyal… except the traitor of course.

Harry had seen that vision of Peter kneeling before Tom and his Harish and whimpering about 'joining the winning cause'. He had even been asked if he was willing to betray his friends and he'd readily agreed, the smarmy git. That was how Harry knew he was a fraud, but his mouth couldn't form the words to express himself correctly, so all he could do was say 'twaitor' really loudly and express his mighty dislike by turning anything he laid his hands on, into a projectile.

Harry didn't want to be in Gryffindor. Both Tom and Harish had been in Slytherin and they were cool.

No one ever said Tom's name though. No one but Harish. Everyone else said 'my lord' or even, 'dark lord'.

It was frustrating because his parents had never talked about the 'war' around him so all he had to rely on was visions.

He didn't even know what the war was for.

But he knew that Tom had come to his home to kill him specifically for some reason and he knew it was important. He had offered to let mum step aside, so it was definitely Harry he was after and Harry had known that if he'd had a tiger on hand, it would have helped, but no one wanted to listen to a 'little tyke'.

Harish had tigers of his own and Harry had realized now that since Tom had watched Harish die so painfully, he must have been lonely. Harry and Harish looked alike and if Harry had a tiger, Tom would have probably second guessed himself. He may have even let Harry live.

From his visions, Harry liked Tom. He liked Harish too. But he was not happy that his parents had to be killed for whatever Tom's special reason was.

If the man were still alive, Harry could question him.

The boy sighed once more.

Thinking of the future was becoming a pain.

* * *

Harry smiled at the barn owl that had come to deliver his Hogwarts letter. He accepted the envelope and scribbled his reply on a piece of lined paper. He handed the creature a piece of bacon and filled up a bowl of water for it.

Once the bird had it's fill, it accepted the response and hooted once, before taking flight once again.

"Aunt Petunia, I need you to drop me off at Diagon Alley!"

* * *

"Is there a specific time that I should pick you up by?" the woman asked when he stepped out of the car. Her face was pinched in displeasure as she looked up at the dodgy pub she had deposited him at.

"At three would be fine. I should be finished by then."

She gave a stiff nod and pulled away, leaving Harry to draw his breath and courage from an unknown source and go forward. The Leaky Cauldron was dark inside and a small level of smoke hung around the ceiling, from all the magicals who decided that smoking indoors was perfectly alright.

Harry slipped passed the people much bigger than him, keeping his arms close to his body so as not to touch the hag he'd just passed by. While not prejudiced, she smelled strongly of urine and didn't look clean and he had just washed his outfit the night previous. He had at least two more days of wear out of the clothing, if he didn't purchase new clothes today that was. He also didn't wish to go around smelling foul.

He slipped out the back door with ease, already sensing the magic coming from beyond the door. The brick wall was jagged and uneven, but it looked nice and much better than the perfectly straight houses that lined all of Little Whinging.

He raised a magic filled finger and tapped the bricks in the sequence of the magical residue left behind. The brick with the least magic on it first, because the magic had worn off first as it was the first to be touched in the sequence.

The passage opened up and Harry smiled to himself, mentally thanking Harish for his visions.

Beings of all shapes and sizes walked up and down the length of the alley, with the strange buildings over heads seemingly leaning together to block the sunlight from actually entering the alley, and a cobblestone walkway.

Harry walked quickly, because he had to reach the bank first in order to get any of the much needed work accomplished today.

Things were looking up.

* * *

 **A/N: Another is done!**

 **How was it? Let me know!**

 **Check out my other Tomarry/Harrymort fics.**

 **See ya! :D**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.**

* * *

"Master Goblin, my name is Harry James Potter and I would like to take an inheritance test, please."

He stood firmly in front of the podium that the Head Goblin resided behind, staring at the beady eyed creature directly. Said being leaned over to give him a piercing stare, pointed teeth gnashing together.

"Strange, that you do not have your key, so-called, 'Harry James Potter'."

"I do not know who holds it, Master Goblin," Harry answered reluctantly, disliking that piece of information the most.

The Goblin's teeth were formidable and as the creature bared them fiercely, Harry nearly winced. Annoyed Goblins wasn't anything pleasant, or so his visions had shown.

The Goblin snapped something at one of his fellows, who bowed and ordered Harry to follow him. Harry reluctantly bowed to the Head Goblin and thanked him for his assistance, knowing that he probably had better things to do.

The young Potter found himself seated in a spacious office with a large chandelier that certainly looked like it was crafted from diamonds, and marble flooring that was slippery and deadly to walk on. The dark wood of the chair he was provided with was enchanting. He liked it.

The Goblin behind the desk drew his sharply nailed fingers together and leveled the boy with a nasty grin. "So, he-who-claims-to-be-Harry-Potter, what incentive can you possibly give us to make us give you the potion for free?"

Harry frowned and rubbed his head, "I don't really know what you want beside the gold I'd pay when I finally get my vault key. I don't know who holds it and I'd just prefer to get a new one instead of trying to find it all out."

"Harry Potter's guardians would have his key," the Goblin pointed out.

The boy snorted, "If Aunt Petunia knew that I had money to my name and that she didn't have to spend the past ten year paying out of her own pocket for me, she'd riot. Most likely drain my dry while she was at it. We don't get along. I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking in placing me with her."

The Goblin leaned forward then, hands no longer clasped together, but gripping the sides of his chair firmly.

"You say that Albus Dumbledore placed you with your aunt? Can you prove it?"

Harry stared at the Goblin once again, feeling annoyance creeping up. This was getting ridiculous!

Harry stood then. "I guess I'm waiting to get my vault key. And when I do, I will be removing every item under my control and everything else the day I reach majority. Let's see how Gringotts does without the Potter and Black fortunes under their roof."

He turned for the door because he was sick of dealing with the underhanded ways. He wasn't strong enough to threaten people like he'd seen Tom do.

"What do you know about the Black vaults?" The Goblin demanded harshly from behind him.

"That I'm Sirius' godson and that he made me his heir on my first birthday. Good day, Goblin."

This one didn't deserve the title of 'master' and Harry certainly wasn't going to gift him with it.

He strode from the room and back the way he came, thankful that his memory was good enough to remember the winding way back to the main floor.

As he passed by the Head Goblin, he cleared his throat to get the creature's attention. "Master Goblin, be forewarned that when I attain my key, I will be assuming lordship of my Most Ancient and Noble Houses and removing everything from my vaults. Gringotts will never see me or my descendants from that day forth."

He made to move past the Goblin, but found himself confronted with a woman. She was squat, with a pinched face that made her already unpleasant features ever more unpleasant.

"Pardon me," she said in a high, simpering tone that grated his nerves worse than the Goblin had managed to. "-but may I assume that these… _creatures_ … have been rude toward the heir of a Most Ancient and Noble House?"

"My issue will be dealt with between the Goblins and myself. I do not need the input of some interloper who should learn to mind her own business."

Her face turned an alarming shade of puce, clashing terribly with the horrid pink getup she was clothed in. " _Do you know who I am you little beast?_ " She hissed through clenched teeth.

"No. Should I care?" He asked flippantly, really not caring in the slightest.

Her nostrils widened with her rapidly in drawn breath. "I am Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic himself!"

He scoffed, "And I'm Harry James Potter, heir to the Most Ancient and Noble Houses of Potter and Black, and maybe even some others. Do you wish to make something of this interaction, Madam Umbridge? As I recall, Umbridge is nowhere on the roster for even Noble families."

He'd seen Harish do this to a few people while at work. Harish had worked as the Junior Undersecretary to the Minister when he was alive and he had to deal with a lot of prejudice because he was a Slytherin. Harry had studied these visions closely to help him prepare for later on in life.

Since Dumbledore didn't see it fit to help him at all, he had to help himself.

Bloody Dumbles.

Umbridge was sputtering now, unable to hold her own against one who obviously held more power than she.

"I suggest you leave, Madam Umbridge, you are already drawing a crowd and it is most unbecoming."

The woman huffed and stomped away at a fast waddle, her shoes clicking thunderously on the marble flooring as she retreated quickly as possible.

He glared at her back, feeling a strong level of disgust welling up inside of him. How could a human like that even exist?

Oh wait, the Dursleys also existed. Never mind.

"Mr. Potter," a gravelly voice called from the side.

He found himself confronted with the Head Goblin as well as some Goblins who had been watching the exchange with growing interest. "Yes?" he asked.

"Robrach will be able to see you in his office. He will administer the potion free of charge."

With suspicious eyes, Harry stared at the aforementioned Goblin who had stepped forward at the giving of his name. "Why trust my word now when it obviously wasn't good enough before?"

He received a chilling grin. "We of Gringotts… do not _like_ the Senior Undersecretary. She is quite the… _problem_ for us."

Enemy of my enemy is my friend?

Harry shrugged. If it got him to his funds and into the alley a lot faster, he'd take what he could get… for the time being.

He followed the new Goblin into a much nicer office that somehow put the last one to shame. Bigger, better, and overall it had more welcoming atmosphere to go along with it.

"If you have no problem with the requirement, you will add some blood to this potion and then drink it in one gulp. Exactly. One. Gulp."

Harry took the small vial proffered and then the small dagger. It was a quick slice across the tip of the finger. Fast enough so no blood got on the blade itself. Blood held a lot of a person's magic and leaving it around carelessly would be foolish.

He squeezing the bead of blood and held it over the lip of the potion, watching as it turned red and then green, before settling to a deep, mauve shade.

He slung it back quickly, grimacing at the flavor of dirt.

The parchment before them glowed red as little black lines trailed over it.

Robrach hummed in consideration. "Heir Potter-Black-Peverell. There is a third branch with three small branches coming off of it, but it was not formed by blood relation. Instead, spiritual relation. Congratulations, Heir Potter, you are one of the lucky beings who have been reincarnated. Three times in fact."

Reincarnation?

Wasn't that difficult? He didn't know much as he'd only had one vision of Harish reading a book on it. There wasn't much information about it, it was so obscure.

"This leaves one thing to be rectified," the Goblin continued, snapping his fingers.

The Goblin that Harry had dealt with not even ten moments prior, appeared in the room, head bowed in the direction of who was no doubt his better.

"You caused unnecessary troubles to a very powerful heir, Vaelok. We have many ways of extracting our debts if need be. Your actions could very well have doomed the entire nation!"

And with those words, Robrach took the dagger that Harry had used and slit the Goblin's throat right there. Harry gaped, slightly horrified and amazed all at once as the creature bled out on the marble flooring.

"Gives new meaning to the term cutthroat," he mumbled, ignoring the devious snicker Robrich gave in return.

"Now, I am the Potter and Peverell Account Manager, but to deal with the Black vaults you will have to speak with Ungrok. There isn't much to say in regards to your possessions and heirships. _Except_ …" Robrach paused, pulling a large sheet of parchment out of a file that appeared on his desk.

"Yes, the Peverell Heirship is shared with another. You are only Heir Apparent and as the other is still alive and much older than you, he would either need to gain permission from you to take up the Lordship or defeat you in an Heirship duel. Tom Marvolo Riddle, last of the Gaunt line which is a branch off Cadmus Peverell, who is older brother to your Peverell ancestor, Ignotus Peverell."

Robrach eyed him with curiosity.

Harry shrugged, "I don't really mind. Are we talking about the husband to Harish Hamish Riddle, who I'm pretty sure is my former incarnation that I've been seeing for years?"

"Could you expound on what your 'seeing' means?"

"I have visions as if I am Harish. Burning to death is uncomfortable," Harry said with a shiver at the memory. Looking down at his wrist, Harry held it out carefully and asked, "Can this have something to do with it? I was born with this on."

The Goblin looked at the pale flesh for a few seconds before nodding in what looked to be appreciation. "The general idea behind it is the protection of memories. Then a slow filtering of memories to combine together. Very well crafted… for a human."

He sat back and snapped his fingers for the second time, summoning a much younger Goblin to his office.

This one was more stout and had a longer, pointier nose. His fingers and fangs just as deadly looking however. "Master Robrach?"

"I have your former client's reincarnation sitting before me. I believe he should hear that strange Will that had puzzled so many of us for years. I feel it may make sense now."

Beady eyes turned on Harry and stared at what felt like his very soul, searching for something. The boy wrinkled his nose in discomfort and looked away.

"I believe it is him," grumbled the Goblin in a much deeper voice than was expected of one so young looking.

This Goblin snapped his fingers and handed the summoned scroll to Harry.

He opened it.

 _This is the last will and testament of Harish Hamish Riddle nee` Flint. I am by no means Imperiused, cursed, confonded, confused, addled, ill, nor have I taken any potions. My mind is my own._

 **Tom dearest, if you did decide to come hear the reading, know that it wasn't your fault and that I have fixed everything. From now on, any more reincarnations will remember their former lives. I created a very special bracelet of Runes you see, and by their fifteenth birthday, they will remember everything while still maintaining their own personality as they will be their own persons.**

 **I couldn't bare the thought of immortality as you seem to so I could not take that turn with you, but I did my best with what I had.**

 **Please do forgive me and know that I mean you the best. In your eternity, you will not always be alone, for I have ensured that _I will always come back to you_. A separate letter just for you has been stored away by my Account Manager, should you wish to read it in fuller detail.**

 _The next part of the Will may only be listened to by the Goblins, Tom, and my reincarnation as they should be able to locate him/her in my stead._

 **Dear So-So-Who-Is-My-Next-Reincarnation,**

 **My name is Harish Hamish Riddle and I am married to Tom Marvolo Riddle-Slytherin. He is also known as the greatest Dark Lord in wizarding history. Lord Voldemort. Do not feel alarmed for my Tom is quite the darling and charming man.**

 **He has a vision and he knows what must be done to see it through.**

 **DO NOT trust Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore! He is the one who murdered my former incarnation simply because Tom was growing attached and he didn't like Tom influencing such an innocent soul. If only that old fool knew what that 'innocent soul' had asked to be taught so that he may deal with the bullies in school. Idiot.**

 **Magic is magic. The Ministry is turning corrupt, labeling anything requiring strong emotion as Dark Magic, but they neglect to realize that considerably powerful Light Magic also requires strong emotion and by their own laws, they should be labeling these are Dark Arts as well, but they haven't. It is a plot that Albus Dumbledore is also included in, to demean all magic that isn't considered Light in nature. You cannot trust the Ministry nor Dumbledore to aid you.**

 **I am not saying that you need to join my dear's cause and be a Death Eater because I certainly wasn't one, but you just need to understand the facts and that siding with someone like Dumbledore will not do you any good.**

 **I hope you will take my advice and my memories and make a suitable decision based on what you learn. My Tom is so lonely you see. He had to wait seventeen years to meet me, not knowing that my incarnation's soul had passed to my newborn body the moment he died. I hope he won't have to wait so long to find you.**

 **And you don't have to be romantic partners. The two incarnations before me were only his friends.**

 **Good luck to you, my dear.**

 **To ease your way, I leave everything within my trust vault, to you.**

 **Take care of my Tom, please?**

* * *

After his enlightening trip to Gringotts, Harry accepted his Heirships and the vaults he was allowed to take. He then added everything in Harish's vault to his Trust Fund which had gotten a new key made. Only he or his Account Manager could enter.

Now with his new bag that he'd received from Gringotts - free of charge by the way - for the difficulties he'd experienced in the first half hour, filled with hundreds of Galleons, he had a lot of shopping to do.

Madam Malkin's was his first stop and while his clothes were being made, he shopped for his other requirements.

The wand came second to last, where Mr. Garrick Ollivander stared at him for nearly five minutes without speaking, before suddenly smiling and saying, "I knew there was something odd about him. An Old Soul indeed."

And so the two ran through an astonishing number of wands, before Ollivander scampered off to the very back of the shop, leaving Harry to stand amidst the shattered bottles and shredded books that he'd accidentally ruined upon waving each and every wand.

"Here we are! Eleven inches, Holly, Phoenix Feather core," said the old man almost reverently.

Harry's magic reacted instantly, running through the wand which then amplified it and returned it back to Harry's body.

"Curious," whispered the wandmaker.

"How?"

"The core of your wand shares a brother without another core. I remember every wand I have ever created and who I sell them to. Your wand is twin to the wand that gave you your scar."

"Tom Riddle."

His former incarnation's husband/lover? Interesting.

The old man nodded. "I am surprised you know of his true name, not many do."

"I had an eventful day at Gringotts, sir. Seven Galleons, right?"

"Yes. I think… we may expect great things of you, Mr. Potter. I would also advise you to read _Greatest Witches and Wizards of the Twentieth Century_ , page 394, it'll be helpful. You'll wish to be prepared. Trust me."

Harry paid for his wand and retreated form the shop, considering the man's words carefully.

It couldn't hurt.

* * *

 **A/N: Another is done!**

 **-Cutthroat Goblins! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!**

 **How was it? Let me know!**

 **Check out my other fics!**

 **See ay! :D**

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	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.**

 ***NOTE* I am participating in the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition this season! I am the Seeker for the Ballycastle Bats so once the challenges kick off, I may not be as responsive. Apologies.*NOTE***

* * *

He was famous. He was bloody famous for 'killing' the Dark Lord Voldemort. Harry hadn't killed anyone. In fact, he hadn't done anything that night. It was all Lily Potter who had done the saving. Her magic and sacrifice that had saved him.

Anyone who attempted to do him harm came to harm themselves. Dudley falling down the stairs, or that heart attack Vernon had after hitting Harry with the belt. It was a particularly powerful kind of magic.

The Killing Curse - as he learned the green curse was called - could not be blocked. No one ever said anything about rebounding it.

But he was still heralded as a hero but then left in the proverbial gutter. Dumbledore had a hand in this. Strange that he let these people practically worship the ground Harry walked on but do nothing to stop their beliefs. He did have plans for Harry and the boy was not planning on following through with them.

Aunt Petunia did not ask about his new trunk full of objects. She didn't care about anything. So the fact that he had everything he'd purchased inside the trunk, didn't matter to her in the least.

As for Diagon Alley, Harry planned to go back later, before the first of September. There were so many things he wanted. He had to study and get a feel for the wizarding populace and what they acted like as a whole. It was going to be a lot of work.

Judging from the books that had information on him - wherever they got their information from, he'd also love to meet the informants - Harry looked exactly like James Potter but with Lily's eyes. Harry most certainly didn't look like either of them. He looked like Harish, who apparently looked like whoever came before him. The appearance was passed down in reincarnations, just like souls.

Harry sighed. His hair was a dead giveaway to any paying attention that he was a Potter. Perhaps growing it out some would help tame it?

The boy stood in front of the bathroom mirror and stared at his reflection. He couldn't change his skin color or anything - he'd tried on numerous occasions but the magic wouldn't allow it - and neither his hair or eyes could change color or shade. But he could grow his hair out!

Aunt Petunia learned that shaving his hair off wasn't in her best interest because he'd grown it back over the course of a single night. She spent four hours on it until she finally realized it was pointless.

Harry scrunched his face up and forced his magic to do as his will bid it, making the mop of scruffy, black locks grow and thicken. Harry was faced with hair now reaching to the nape of his neck and curling out a bit at the ends.

With a comb, he brushed the hair into place and smiled as it stayed put. His fringe covered his brow quite well and the little hairs in the back curled up only a little bit. He wouldn't even need to use gel to keep it together and he could go about his life without worry. He liked it.

Hold on… one piece on the right side decided that it did not want to conform and was sticking out. A cowlick. He had a bloody cowlick.

With a shrug, he realized that it could indeed be worse. Harry resolved to worry about more important things.

Like the rest of his appearance. No glasses thankfully. James Potter had worn them by choice, because they were enchanted. Harry didn't want to wear any, but the thought of seeing through objects or even around corners could be cool. He was not getting those bland, circular frames that everybody and their brother wore, though. Hideously uncool.

Just because he didn't care for the fame didn't mean he couldn't care for his appearance. Now that he had the opportunity to look good he would do everything in his power to remain good looking.

* * *

Harry bought himself a snowy owl which he named Hedwig. She was beautiful and abnormally intelligent even for an owl.

He got the glasses just for emergencies. One could never be too careful. Also… he looked too much like his former incarnation and if he styled his hair different and wore the glasses, Dumbledore might not notice the similarities. He had met the former two incarnations after all so he could put two and two together if he tried hard enough.

Harry had slipped his school robe into his small bag where he also had a book and his wand situated. Petunia had dropped him off at King's Cross at ten fifty. Harry's ticket showed Platform 9 ¾ and while he had no memories to go with the experience, he did just follow behind a large group of redheads who were pushing trolleys like his own.

They all ran at the wall one at a time and once the mother had disappeared, Harry mimicked their actions, his stomach only jumping slightly in fear at the possibility of colliding with the wall. But he'd gone right through and he was certain that none of the muggles had noticed a thing.

The Hogwarts Express was a large, red, steam locomotive and it was beautiful. The paint glossy and the whistle clear. Harry wished he had a camera. Still, he only had a few minutes to get on board and so he wheeled his trolley toward the nearest worker and smiled, handing his ticket and trunk over with the assurances that everything would be handled upon reaching the school. Hedwig would be fine.

He found himself a singular compartment toward the back of the train, managing to slip in and out of focus and attain an empty space all to himself. He hoped it remained that way, but couldn't be sure it would.

Loosening his black tie, Harry pulled the book from his expanded bag and began reading up on potions. His glasses worked properly, letting him know that someone was walking by the compartment and had been curious enough to watch him from outside.

He ignored their presence, focusing on his reading in hopes that they'd go away. Eventually, she did.

The whistle blew loudly and Harry smiled, realizing that he was now going to Hogwarts and that he would have all this time to learn and come up with a strategy.

Harish's will said Tom was immortal. Tom was Voldemort. Voldemort was alive somehow. So… Harry was sure they'd cross paths again. Undefeated people usually did not take defeat very well and always came back for more. Harry just had to work to get the man to use his brain for a few seconds and give him a chance.

He'd need to patiently wait out the vision/memories and educate himself as quickly as possible because he knew that Dumbledore would be of no assistance in that area. He always had to look out for himself and this wasn't going to be any different.

The book was something he'd found in Harish's vault. Moste Potente Potions. It was apparently in the Restricted Section at Hogwarts but since it was his property and no one could go into the bag but himself, he was allowed to keep it. And it wasn't like he'd go blathering about it to anyone. He didn't know anyone well enough to relinquish his secrets!

Harry greedily took in the list of ingredients at the very back of the book as well as the small list - written in Harish's own hand even - of suppliers he could owl order from. He liked it. He liked it very much. He was looking forward to subscribing to every one of them.

The trolley witch was a nice, old woman who started visiting the students around lunchtime. Harry was one of her first stops and he was gobsmacked! All the sweets! He hadn't considered acquainting himself with any of the sweets and now that he wasn't at the Dursleys he could actually have some!

He took two of everything. It was high time he indulged himself in something nice and Harry was determined to try everything and find something to fawn over.

He liked the Pepper Imps, Ice Mice, Blood Pops, Pumpkin Pasties, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, and Gillywater. The Every Flavor Beans got a laugh or two, but weren't something he'd willingly choose for himself ever again. Everything else was pretty simple as far as flavor, but he still ate them just because he could.

The door opened suddenly, startling the boy from his comparison of two beans that were the same color. There was a boy in the doorway, looking frazzled and ready to faint. "Have you seen a toad?" He asked, pudgy face scrunched up in resignation. He didn't expect that Harry had, he was just asking as his hope dictated he should.

"Sorry, no."

"I've lost him!" The boy wailed. "Gran's going to kill me!"

He ran off in a panic, leaving the compartment door wide open. Harry waved a hand, closing it carefully.

Not too long after that, he was introduced to a pair of red headed twins that he'd seen on the platform. 'Gred and Forge' Weasley explained to him that they were pranksters and that if he got targeted by anything, not to take it too seriously because they target everyone. They even had designs on filching a toilet seat from one of the girl's lavatories.

He liked them.

"What's your name again?" Forge asked.

"Harry Potter."

They stared for the better part of a minute, before shrugging. "Okay!"

He was actually surprised. Given what the books had said and what people whispered about him in darkened alleys and dingy pubs, he had expected to be nearly molested once people found out his name.

"If our little brother gets crazy, ignore him. He's a bit obsessed with… certain people," Gred said.

"And when our sister comes next year, she has an enormous obsession with you specifically, so be careful," Forge added seriously.

They stood. "We'll see you at the feast! Hope you get into Gryffindor!"

And all Harry could think, was that they would be good minions to have on his side rather than working against him. Perhaps Gryffindor would be best?

* * *

"Fred said we had to fight a troll!" one of the boys hissed. It was a redhead with the same hair color as the twins. Harry would assume that he was the one he'd been told to watch out for.

Beside him stood the boy who had lost his toad - miraculously managing to find it on the steps of the castle, surprisingly - and he had been twitching the entire time.

"Are you okay?" Harry decided to ask because he'd seen people faint from hyperventilation and this boy was getting really close to becoming comrades with the cold floor of the entrance hall.

"M-my Gran wants me to be in Gryffindor," he murmured, chin tucked into his chest, eyes facing the floor. "But I'm not brave."

"Where do _you_ want to go?" Harry asked. He'd heard the boy mention his Gran twice now and he wasn't liking the sound of her.

"Hufflepuff. They're supposed to be nice."

"Then you go where you want, if she can't be happy for you, ignore her to the best of your abilities."

The boy's lip quivered, but he didn't get a chance to comment because the Deputy Headmistress had returned and had ordered them to follow her in a single file line.

The Great Hall was vast, with long tables piled with students all leaning around each other in order to get a good look at the little, first years. The boy beside him whimpered and Harry placed a calming hand on his back. It was the best he could do without drawing attention to them specifically.

A girl somewhere behind them commented on the ceiling, which was bewitched to mimic the night sky. What happened was the charm itself made the object in question semi transparent and then like a chameleon mimicked the very backdrop, which made it look like the sky was up there. That last part was written in Hogwarts: A History In the Making. Second Edition of Hogwarts: A History.

The Deputy Headmistress had them stand together at the edge of the small platform at the end of the hall. A large table sat perpendicular to the House tables, with dozens of teachers seated facing them, giving perfect viewpoint of the hall.

Harry's eyes landed on the prominent figures. Severus Snape - youngest Potions Master in British history - had been someone Harish knew very well. Harry had a few memories of Harish patting the man's back as he brewed potions. He'd have to watch out for that one, because he had keen eyes and would most likely notice a resemblance between Harish and Harry.

Next was Filius Flitwick, who was half-Goblin and a Dueling Master. Formidable power wrapped in a cute package.

Finally, was Dumbledore himself, though Harry skimmed over him. He didn't want to give the old man a chance to even peek into his guarded thoughts.

His scar twinged suddenly and Harry blinked in shock. That had never happened before. He resisted the urge to rub his brow, not wanting to draw more attention to himself, especially since Dumbledore was looking over the first years with a look of growing confusion on his face.

The more addled the man was, the better off Harry would be.

"Before we begin, the Headmaster would like to say a few words," McGonogall said in her heavily accented brogue.

The old coot stood from his throne - because that was what it was, a throne, just like Tom's had been - and smiled down at them, eyes twinkling in false happiness.

"First years will please note that the Dark Forest is forbidden to all students and that the third floor corridor on the right hand side, is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death."

So what, it was okay if someone was suicidal? The boy beside Harry quivered once again.

Professor McGonagall held up a large scroll and stepped aside to reveal a wooden stool with a brown, ratty looking hat resting atop it.

The seam in the hat split open and fixed them with what looked to be a grin, but the wrinkles in the hat forming almost a face, made it more creepy than cool.

The mouth opened and the hat began to sing.

It talked. It sang. It could see inside his head. What if it gave him away?

The spike of fear in his gut made his nauseated and he had to fight to keep himself upright.

"When I call your name, you will sit down, I will place the Sorting Hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your Houses."

And so the line went.

He found out that the boy he'd been standing next to was his old playmate, Neville Longbottom, who joined Gryffindor much to his apparent shock. Though he forgot to take the hat off and had to rush back to the professor to hand it over.

Harry waited patiently until his turn, where Professor McGonagall read off, "Potter, Harry." and the entire Hall burst into loud whispers of his name, with people craning their heads in hopes of seeing the famed Boy-Who-Lived.

Withholding a sigh and a roll of the eyes, Harry stepped forward, hearing the gasps of the first years. Yes, they had been standing beside him and never even knew it.

He ignored the whispers and the looks as he sat on the stool, the ratty hat placed over his head, blocking his view of everyone.

 _Oh, you are a **difficult** one, aren't you? So much talent. So much to do. So many plans to see through._

 _Slytherin would help you on your way to greatness, but would also ruin your plans. Ravenclaw would gain you too much suspicion and slow you plans down. Hufflepuff wouldn't be able to handle your scheming despite you being a good representation of the House._

 _Gryffindor it'll have to be, though I wish I didn't have to put you there. It'll be a struggle, boy. While I commend your plan, you won't enjoy yourself among the lions and the only ones whom you will like, won't even be true Gryffindors._

 _GRYFFINDOR!_

Harry went to his table, the words of the Hat fresh in his mind.

His scar burned again.

This was going to be a pain.

* * *

 **A/N: Another is done!**

 **-Harry's hair is just like Death the Kid's hair, without the stripes.**

 **How was it? Let me know!**

 **Check out my other Tomarry/Harrymort fics!**

 **See ya! :D**

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	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Hello, people!**

 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **I have no beta.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON. I FOLLOW BACK.**

* * *

Severus Snape stared at the boy would was supposedly Harry James Potter. The boy that did in no way resemble James Potter despite what the books and even the Headmaster had to say. In fact, he looked strangely like… Harish.

He shook his head because that thought just wasn't feasible. The Dark Lord's husband had burned to death because of Dumbledore. Both Bellatrix and Severus had been heartbroken at the news. And their lord… well, he never returned to normal with Harish gone from their lives.

The boy sat at the Gryffindor table after nearly five minutes of sitting on the stool. That almost never happened. The Hat must have prattled on about something and the look of contemplation on the boy's face was so familiar to him! The Hat had said something of great import.

He sat beside the Longbottom boy who was gaping openly and Gryffindorishly at the Boy-Who-Lived. He scoffed at the title. Ridiculous.

Only minutely did he pay attention to the rest of the sorting. The Weasley boy ended up joining the lions and had sat right across from Potter and began talking. From the boy's expression, the Weasley wasn't appreciated.

Curiously, the boy brushed his forehead several times throughout the feast, a wince visible from where Severus was seated.

The scar in particular. It was created by Dark Magic, so perhaps he suffered lingering side effects from it. It was plausible as Dark Magic tended to leave traces and imprints wherever it was used.

This bore further looking into.

* * *

Harry honestly didn't think it was going to be this raucous but he should have expected it. They were Gryffindors and subtlety and silence didn't seem to be in their natures. It was just so very annoying to have to put on a false smile for mostly everyone - sans the twins and Neville of course - and act as if he was happy to join them.

Before going to bed, he'd heard the name, 'Boy-Who-Lived' more than ten times, most being from Ronald Weasley. He insisted upon calling Harry, 'mate' and tried to insinuate himself into everything Harry did, which was annoying.

Harry's anatomy was no different than anyone else's so why did he have to be followed into the bathroom and watched?

The hangings on the fourposter were such an alarming shade of red, he had to blink several times to get himself used to it. He then waved his hand, Transfiguring the red to a dark brown. He'd prefer green, but Gryffindors didn't like green on principle. Their ridiculous hatred for Slytherins held them back from simply enjoying life.

Harry went to bed that evening, silencing charm on the curtains and a magical alarm set to awaken him at seven.

* * *

"Tattoos aren't legal for children!"

And that was what started the whole fiasco. He'd been sitting with Neville at breakfast, comparing their timetables, when one Hermione Granger popped out of seemingly nowhere and pointed rather rudely at his hand while boldly announcing her thoughts.

He stared at her for a few seconds, before asking, "Whether it's a tattoo or not, how would it matter to you? How does it have any bearing on your life at all?"

She blinked thrice and then stuttered, "B-but you're supposed to be a hero! Heros are good examples and you'll set a bad example for Gryffindor by breaking the law!"

 _Gryffindor doesn't need my help to look bad,_ he almost said, but decided against it. Also, she considered him to be some kind of hero? He was no one's hero despite whatever tripe Dumbledore had force fed the populace of Magical Britain.

"I am not a hero, Granger. My mother was the one who did all the work. She saved me at the cost of her own life. As for the Rune Ring, I was born with it and it caused a lot of worry when my parents couldn't determine the origin and meaning.

Keep your opinions to yourself lest your foolhardy actions reflect badly on all of us."

He then ignored her, going back to giving Neville all of his attention and not caring when she stomped away to throw a tanty.

"Is that true?" Neville murmured when he felt it was safe.

Harry nodded. "She put some of her blood on the ring and when I was hit with the green curse, it rebounded."

"Woah."

"Yeah," he nodded.

* * *

Transfiguration was easy as far as practical knowledge was concerned. Of course Harry was doing it his way instead of bothering with the theory, which he actually needed to learn and memorize. It was boring.

Herbology was a lot more interesting in the fact that some magical plants could be really dangerous. Also, the multiple vined plant growing in the back of the greenhouse simply begged for Harry to go over and pet it. He didn't, but that didn't mean he didn't want to.

He did not like Astronomy at all. Classes held at midnight were probably the dumbest decision the school could have made. He didn't care that up until lunch the next day, they didn't have classes, it was still twisting their schedules and made their bed time all wonky.

Charms was more fun in the sense that it was full of things that Harry could actually do. Things that he had been doing for years. Levitation being the easiest thing on the list. And it was fun! Professor Flitwick was probably the happiest person in Hogwarts and he just made the atmosphere in the classroom better.

Nearly every other class catered to the Slytherin/Gryffindor hatred and competitiveness but it was nice to not once be pitted against the snakes and constantly feel like his worth as person was on the line if he didn't beat them.

Flying. Harry happened to know that Tom had taught Harish unsupported flight and above all else, that was what interested him. Broomsticks looked most uncomfortable, especially for boys. Also, Quidditch seemed like a reckless sort of sport and he felt no interest in playing.

Unfortunately, Neville ended up breaking his wrist. His fear of the broom had let it control him and he ended up going for a 'joy ride' that wasn't very joyful in the least. He fell from a great height and landed on his arm.

Harry had his first confrontation with a Slytherin that day. He ended up getting into snark contest with Draco Malfoy… and won. The blond had no hope of defeating the reincarnation of the dark lord's lover. Honestly, with a former Slytherin incarnation's memories in his skull, Harry certainly had the upper hand.

Also, in Harish's day, Slytherins did not steal other people's belongings. Slytherins were prideful and wouldn't accept handouts, donations, or pity. They most certainly would not take something once belonging to someone else. It was just as bad a hand-me-downs in their eyes.

The fact that Draco Malfoy - who was supposedly wealthy - had to steal a little trinket from a fellow pureblood, made him pathetic. With memories of Abraxas Malfoy in his mind, Harry could tell just how far the Malfoy line had fallen. This generation's Malfoy was a disgrace to the name itself.

Also, Harry simply allowed to fool to not only mount a broom against the orders of Madam Hooch, who had left to take Neville to the Hospital Wing, but he'd sufficiently gotten the Gryffindors riled up enough to draw the attention of a nearby professor.

McGonagall to be precise. So while Malfoy was up on the broom, threatening the break someone else's possession, McGonagall was storming across the lawns, looking ready to breath fire. She said naught a word until she neared the group, but by then, the jeering Slytherins had quieted and the rowdy Gryffindors froze in fear.

And Malfoy had still remained up there, before deciding to announce loudly that he was going to hide the Remembrall on the roof. And so McGonagall alerted him of her presence, asked for a recount of the situation - which was given verbatim by Hermione Granger - and took fifteen points form Slytherin for defying Madam Hooch, another fifteen for thievery, five for bullying, and five more for backtalk when he tried to threaten her with his father.

Overall, it was a dramatic afternoon that ended up with the Slytherin first years glaring at the Malfoy Heir for the rest of the week. Forty points taken away by the second day of school. A record apparently.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was in no way interesting. The professor was skittish and soft spoken. He flinched at every raised noise, carried garlic everywhere he went, and generally looked like someone had threatened him with death should he even breath.

Being near him made Harry's scar hurt, which was odd. That had never happened before and he couldn't understand what about the man put him on edge despite the fact that he wasn't a threat.

Quirrel had a strange fixation on him too and his turban bothered Harry immensely. Whenever the back of the teacher faced him, he felt either ill or just depressed, which wasn't normal. Add on the scar burning and he kept himself alert at all times in the man's class.

And then there was Potions.

Severus Snape had stalked into the classroom and proceeded to do his best to terrify everyone within. The Slytherins weren't worried like the Gryffindors seemed to be. Neville was quivering in his seat.

And those dark eyes landed on Harry's form, filled with a mixture of contempt and curiosity, which left the boy in confusion. The following quiz even more so. Despite passing perfectly, he didn't know why he'd been asked about Amortentia when he was certain it was taught in sixth year and that first years weren't supposed to know about it. Snape proceeded to take five points because Harry had supposedly been cheeky.

But the satisfaction in the man's gaze just made him all the more confused. It would seem that Snape did not like him.

When class was over, he was ordered to stay behind and so Harry waited by the man's desk, wondering just what the man wanted. He also ignored the various snickers from the Slytherins as they departed.

The man was seated at his desk, looking over Harry's potion.

"You brewed this perfectly," came the low statement. Dark eyes flickered upward. "You also answered questions far beyond your level."

Blast!

Snape's eyes alighted on his wrist, seeing the red runes wrapped around the pale flesh.

"You are not Harry Potter, are you?"

Well he _had_ expected the man to figure it out, just no so soon.

Harry scratched his head as he thought over his answer. "I'm Harry… with Harish's memories. Some of them at least. I haven't gotten all of them yet. I have memories of Harish teaching you and the crazy lady."

He did not know her name, for it hadn't been said in any of the memories he'd gotten so far. She'd been referred to as an apprentice, but never named. Sometimes Tom called her his 'most faithful', but never by name.

"And do you understand what happened?" asked the Potions professor.

"Harish left me his vault and a letter. I'm a reincarnation just like he was."

"And how are you handling this information?"

Harry shrugged, "I've always been advanced. I remember most of my life. I hated having to move all because I found a snake in the back yard. I hated having to see Wormtail all the time, especially when I knew he was a traitor and no one would believe me. I also told them that a tiger from Nepal would had solved everything but no one wanted to listen to me. And in the end, I do not understand why Tom attacked me, but I'm sure I will find out eventually."

They stared at each other for several moments, before Snape's head tilted in near deference. "None but my Lord's husband would dare call him such. I believe you."

Severus seemed to still follow Tom's ways despite being under Dumbledore's thumb.

"You don't like the Headmaster either, do you?"

The man's deadpan stare was the only answer he needed.

"Then I look forward to working with you, Mr. Snape."

A formidable ally to gain in such short notice. He was on a roll.

* * *

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	14. Chapter 14

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* * *

Voldemort had heard many tales since returning to Great Britain. After finally finding a body in one Quirinus Quirrell, he had finally been able to return to life, sort of.

The stories he had heard upon his arrival were enough to simultaneous anger and amuse him. All of wizarding Britain had cheered when they had thought him to be dead. They had celebrated his 'death' and laid the entire happenstance on the shoulders of the Potter's child, who had somehow survived the Killing Curse.

They called him the Boy-Who-Lived and had even considered making Samhain a holiday about him.

Voldemort finally learned the name of the child who was supposedly going to bring his downfall. Harry James Potter.

Voldemort had nearly fainted at the name. Harry James, who had black, messy hair, and bright, green eyes.

When he thought back to that day, he remembered the strange child sat in the cot. Remembered that the child had very clearly called him by name. But he also remembered how the boy said he 'forgave' him.

It couldn't be. It just couldn't be possible that Voldemort's dead husband, the love of his life and his best friend, was reborn into the body of the one meant to destroy him!

He didn't want to believe it! He didn't even want to consider that it was the truth.

It was such a horrible twist of fate, to turn someone he obviously cared for, into someone meant to vanquish him.

No one knew where the boy lived. Some assumed that he was in hiding in order to receive special training because he was in line to become the next Minister for Magic. Ridiculous, but the sheeple were very quick to convince themselves of anything.

A few thought that he was living with Dumbledore of all people, but the old man lived at Hogwarts and no one had ever seen Harry Potter there, so it couldn't be true.

A few got the bright idea that perhaps he was placed somewhere safe, under the careful eyes of Dumbledore. That rumor was the most likely out of the dozens of stories that Voldemort had heard ever since returning to Britain.

Fighting dragons and saving damsels when he was four? Honestly, some children may be talented - just look at Voldemort's childhood for an example - but no child ran around swinging swords and killing dragons at that age.

Still, Voldemort knew that Quirrell had managed to attain the Defense Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts for the upcoming year and Voldemort knew that he would be hearing about Harry Potter, because the boy had turned eleven and would certainly have been accepted into the school.

Dumbledore would face public outcry if he tried to keep the boy away.

* * *

Voldemort was awake because the professors were having the same discussion that they had at the beginning of every term. Which new student was showing the most promise? Were there any students who were causing a bit of a ruckus? Did anyone need to be watched for mysterious behavior?

The professors always discussed things at these mandatory meetings and Voldemort had made sure to rest fully the whole day in order to be wide awake to listen to the discussion.

"A few students have shown some mettle from each of the Houses, I am sure," the old fool began, his grandfatherly tone smooth and irritating to Voldemort. "Severus?"

Ah, yes, his dear Severus had managed to procure a job at Hogwarts and was fooling the old manipulator very well.

"I have discovered that Daphne Greengrass is a force to be reckoned with among her peers. She is self assured, of a sharp mind, and intelligent. I keep records of all of my Slytherin's scores and she ranks highest out of the Slytherin first years. Behind her is Blaise Zabini. I would suggest advanced tutoring if it comes down to it."

'Advanced tutoring'? Voldemort had never heard of that being a part of the Hogwarts curriculum.

"Filius?"

"Lisa Turpin is my brightest little star! She loves her books very much and excels in all of her classes! Unfortunately she really needs some friends, but doesn't seem too moved to acquire any as of yet."

"It's only the first month, Filius. I'm sure things will work out," said Dumbledore, sounding convincing, though Voldemort wasn't fooled in the least.

"Pomona?"

"Zacharias Smith has been a considerable student, if his attitude is put aside. Susan Bones is definitely a bright one and Hannah Abbott is right beside her. I would also recommend them for the advanced tutoring class," the stout witch gushed.

"And Minerva?"

There was a heavy sigh, full of so many emotions despite the fact that Voldemort could not see the old woman's face.

"I have some students who are genius in particular subjects, and some who are good at every subject. I'm sure you all know of Ms. Granger."

There was a collective mumble of agreement. Even Voldemort had heard of the girl. Know-it-all according to some students.

"She pushes herself so hard, I'm convinced she should have been in Ravenclaw. Not once has she even tried to make friends with her classmates. She follows her books religiously and while it's wonderful to see a student thirst for knowledge, I worry over her people skills. Particularly, how she clings to books as the right and if anyone goes against what she reads, then they are wrong.

Several students have made complaints already, so she bears some watching."

The girl sounded obsessed.

"On the other hand, Mr. Potter is my second worry. He is brilliant. His intelligence surpasses that of Lily's when she was a first year. While not so shocking to find such talent in someone so young, his manner of speech and his actions worry me.

He speaks only with Mr. Longbottom and the Weasley twins anddoes not try to branch out despite the House he resides in. He never plays, or gets in trouble. He's quiet and good at remaining out of sight. Frankly, I'm convinced he was supposed to be a Slytherin and that was why his sorting took so long."

Dead silence filled the room.

"Surely you are exaggera-"

"I know what I am talking about, Albus. That boy absolutely detests the youngest Weasley boy. He does not find Quidditch to be interesting and scoffed when a fellow student asked if he wanted to play. He does not do anything that is even remotely Gryffindor. And the dressing down he gave Ms. Granger on the first day. Slytherin. He was supposed to be a Slytherin and I don't know why he was placed in Gryffindor when he obviously dislikes it there."

"Perhaps a re-sort," Sprout suggested. "We want the children to be happy and maybe Slytherin would do him much good."

Severus gave a scoff. "Potter would be a minnow among piranhas in Slytherin. Holding his own is one thing, being a recluse is another. One child against an entire House of children who mostly don't like him already, would not do him any better. I too have noticed his mannerisms and I believe that the boy chose to be placed in Gryffindor because he would face less opposition there.

If he was a Slytherin, you all know as well as I that the entire school would hate him. If he was a Hufflepuff, he'd be a laughing stock and would be bullied by the other three houses. He'd most likely lose his sanity if he was stuck with the Ravenclaws, faced with all those questions day in and day out. Logically, Gryffindor, which is known for adoring courage and great feats of magic, is the least worrisome for someone who is famous for defeating a dark lord."

If Harry Potter was so intelligent and so different that he was supposed to be a Slytherin, then he was very much like Voldemort had been.

But the boy was the reincarnation of Voldemort's lover. Of course if Voldemort killed him as planned, then he would just be reborn, right? Or did the boy have to make the same promise that Hadrian, Haraldr, and Harish had made? And why would he even give such a promise if Voldemort was trying to kill him?

This was so confusing and frustrating.

Voldemort just wanted things to return to the way they had been before Dumbledore ruined his life.

* * *

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	15. Chapter 15

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* * *

Harry tossed and turned. His dreams, which had usually been filled with memories of Harish's past, were for some reason, incredibly vacant of the past. In fact, he seemed to be trapped in a dark room and was unable to move anywhere.

There was a voice. It was raspy and sounded old and withered.

" _Why did you not go to Slytherin?_ "

"Who's asking?" the boy demanded, trying to think about the voice, wondering if he had heard it before.

"An… acquaintance."

Harry huffed. "Sure you are. As for my decision to not go to Slytherin, I can't afford to have the old coot in charge to be any more suspicious of me than he must already be."

"Why would he have any reason to suspect you?"

Seriously, there was something very familiar about that voice and he just couldn't place his finger on it!

"Reasons," the boy murmured being just as vague as whomever was talking to him.

"Such as?"

But Harry was no longer paying attention, because the darkness had bled away to reveal a new scene. One he had never seen before.

" _What is this?!_ " the voice demanded.

"A dream, you daft prat."

It was Tom and Harish, like all the other dreams had been.

Tom was sitting at a table in the early morning, or so Harry assumed judging by the light coming in from the nearby window. Harish was sitting at his right, sipping from tea and eating a plate full of scones.

" _What the hell?_ " the voice murmured, only to be shushed by the boy. He wanted to remember this memory and not have whatever was about to happen, interrupted by some odd voice his mind assaulted him with.

Tom and Harish looked to be in the middle of a deep discussion and the noise surrounding the scene cleared up, revealing whatever they were talking about.

"Dumbledore has sent his chickens to spy at the Ministry," said Harish. "I was actually bothered by Arthur Weasley this morning. Like the man knew something that I don't and was trying to use it against me."

Harish, as the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic herself, had a lot of sway. His position also afforded him many privileges, so people coming to him wasn't a shock.

However, Harry had heard about the Order of Flaming Flamingos/Chickens before, and how they pandered to Dumbledore because he had managed to defeat the Dark Lord Grindelwald years ago. So if this Arthur Weasley was a member, then it meant that whatever he thought he knew, had been implanted by Dumbledore of all people.

Dumbledore had proven to be untrustworthy and a murderer. Harry couldn't believe anything the books said about the man because his actions completely rendered the books and their sayings useless. Baseless hero worship and nothing more.

Tom placed the Daily Prophet down and gave his husband a look. "Do I need to send someone over to handle him?"

Harish laughed, his smile charming and full of life. This obviously was before the war had taken its course over Magical Britain. "Tom, I don't need you protecting me all the time. I can handle a few people who can't seem to take a hint. Anyway, whatever Dumbledore has told his followers, they think I'm some kind of Dark creature because I am 'unnatural'. Honestly, it was the word Weasley used."

Tom's back stiffened. "Could Dumbledore know about your reincarnated status?"

"Who would tell him? The Goblins don't like him because he causes problems for them. Not even all the gold in the world would see them helping him. They'd rather watch him suffer in The Pit."

Tom's hackles lowered slightly. "I want to get rid of the old coot. Soon preferably."

Harish placed a calming hand on Tom's forearm. "I know, love. I want to cast him into a live volcano just as much as you do, but he protects himself with all of his little chess pieces. The only way to get to the queen is to remove the pawns. Pawns first, Tom."

"My love, you are absolutely correct. Pawns first."

The scene before Harry went black once again and he was once again stood in the darkness, with the only light coming from his own body.

"Well _that_ was interesting," the boy mumbled to himself. Who were the 'pawns' supposed to be exactly and should he consider removing them as well? What purpose would it serve him though? He was not Harish despite being a reincarnation and receiving the man's memories.

He also didn't know Tom's goals in full and so acting on them wouldn't benefit him in any way at present.

He would probably have to ask Severus Snape for a full understanding of just what Voldemort had been aiming for in taking over Magical Britain. As the Potions professor was on his side now, that meant that he could probably get answers to the many questions he had. He just had to find the right moment.

Maybe a detention was in order. It would be expected of Snape. He didn't like Gryffindors and not giving a detention to one would be seen as out of character. Yes, he'll work with that.

The raspy voice broke his concentration. " _What has you thinking so deeply?_ "

"Personal issues," the boy said, avoiding detail. He didn't know who or what the voice was. For all he knew, it could be someone sent by Dumbledore and they were somehow entering his dreams in order to mess with him. He would pretend that he didn't know anything when he awoke on the morrow. It would be better for him.

Especially if Dumbledore noticed that he was a reincarnation. For all he knew the man had and was just biding his time.

Harry rubbed the runes on his wrist. He also shouldn't let the man see that. He was probably knowledgeable enough to know what they would stand for. Harry hoped his parents hadn't shown the man. Merlin forbid the consequences of that decision.

"I'm going to wake up now."

* * *

Voldemort was frazzled. He had simply tried to convince the boy that perhaps Slytherin would be a better place for him. Under Severs' watchful eye, he would be free to do more. He would also fall under Voldemort's power faster.

And yet the boy proved to be elusive and easily dodged answers. And he did not trust Albus Dumbledore!

Voldemort did not understand why. At least... he hadn't until the dream came.

It was him and Harish. Harry Potter, his prophesied nemesis and the reincarnation of his past love, was dreaming of him and Harish.

If that was the case, then Harish's plan to make his next incarnation remember his past life had to have worked! It was the only reason that could explain why Potter was seeing such a thing. If he was getting Harish's memories, then what else had he received? Was he so knowledgeable because he was Harish's reincarnation?

And now he was conflicted all over again. His lover and best friend had returned to him twice! And had worked it so that he could continue to return. But this time he came back as the one who was prophesied to vanquish him! Voldemort wanted Harish back but he also wanted to remove the threat to his existence. But then he didn't know what would happen should he killed the Potter boy.

Would the boy even _want_ to join him? He didn't act like Harish did.

Perhaps he could slip him a hint about the prophecy. Or he could swear Severus to secrecy and force him to mention it. Yes. Yes, that was a sound plan.

* * *

Severus Snape hated his life. Sometimes things were just too hectic for him to handle.

But he found out that his Lord was still in existence, but was stuck using an idiot like Quirrell in order to sustain himself. He wanted the Philosopher's Stone, to which Severus readily gave up all information he had regarding how it was being protected. He also wanted to watch the Potter boy and evaluate his standing.

The Dark Lord had figured out the reincarnation bit already, but was skeptical on whether the boy could be trusted as he did not act much like Lord Harish had.

Severus was now tasked with informing the boy about the prophecy and his part in it. He then had to offer to take him to get it if the boy so wanted it. Then, if he learned of the entire prophecy, he was to impart his knowledge to the Dark Lord.

He had given the boy detention for this very purpose and had been relieved when the boy hadn't complained. Reincarnated lover of the Dark Lord aside, he was still in the body of a child and was still a mesh of different characters, making him different. For all Severus knew, the years spent wherever he was living had changed him somehow.

"Hello, professor," the boy greeted, walking through the door at exactly six o'clock. Right on time.

"Come here, there is something we need to discuss."

Once the door was shut, he warded it to silence.

Potter took a seat on the desk nearest Severus' own, and looked at him expectantly.

"Have you wondered, perhaps, why the Dark Lord decided to attack your family?"

"Yes. I have had loads of memories but nothing ever mentioned it."

Severus' gave a half reluctant sigh. "The Headmaster does not wish for you to know, but as it pertains to you the most, I feel you have a right to the information."

Potter leaned forward, his face a mask of complete concern and interest.

"The Headmaster was interviewing a Seer by the name of Sibyll Trelawney in the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade, in 1979."

"Why such a dingy place?" the boy interrupted, his nose wrinkled in disgust.

"His brother owns it."

"I think it sounds suspicious!" the boy said, folding his arms in displeasure.

It actually did, now that he had more time to think about it. Why would the Headmaster give an interview there when he could have done so in the safety of the castle?

"I had been in the bar at the same time… and decided to spy on what was going on."

And suddenly, Potter's face went blank. "He was interviewing a Seer, which means you must have heard her prophesy something. You then told Tom about it."

"In part," Severus admitted. "I heard _part_ of it and was thrown out before I could hear the rest, but I did alert the Dark Lord to what I heard, which was, 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies.' He set his sights on several families at once and when you were born, he decided that you were the threat to his existence. His husband was not pleased."

The boy made a noise as he mulled over what he had just learned. "It would make sense. Dumbledore believes in this too. Which would be why he dumped me off on some Muggles that he knew wouldn't like me, because he was hoping that as a Halfblood, I wouldn't end up just like Tom did."

The boy stood and wiped the dust off his robes. "Load of good it did him, I suppose. Look at me. I'm probably exactly like he was at my age."

"There is more, Potter. The prophecy lies in the Ministry, with all the other prophecies. Only those it pertains to can retrieve it."

"When could I go and get it? You think I can sneak in?"

"Potter, if you managed to sneak into the Ministry, I would be impressed. You would most likely need an escort however."

"Can _you_ come with me?"

Severus sighed because once again, he was doing far more than he ever really wished to do. But if Potter could help return the Dark Lord to himself, and bring back the Olde Ways, than he would do anything.

Anything to get out of Dumbledore's grasp.

He was sick and tired of Lily being used as a way to guilt trip him. He'd had enough.

* * *

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	16. Chapter 16

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 **-I REMOVED A PART OF THE PROPHECY ON PURPOSE FOR THIS FIC! That is it.**

* * *

What better time to go to the Ministry then immediately?

Harry trotted along after his Potions professor, looking around in interest. He didn't have any memories of going to the Ministry so this was a new moment for him.

People were surrounding them on every side and Harry stuck much closer to Snape than he usually would. The man had done something with their wands and announced who they were and why they were there. The man proceeded to lead him to the Department of Mysteries where the Hall of Prophecy was located.

"Not every prophecy in the world is stored in here, right?" he asked, because it was just bothering him for some reason.

"All prophecies within Magical Britain end up on a shelf here. Most of them never get fulfilled because they are vague and the people they refer to have not been born yet, or have already died."

"Are the shelves just… charmed or something?"

"'Or something'," the man responded in a disinterested drawl.

Upon entering the Hall of Prophecy, Harry and Snape were confronted by a person in a mask, wearing a long black robe that was accompanied by a thick hood. Harry could not see the face beneath the dark cowl.

"Names and reason for entry," the person demanded, their voice sounding like a group of people instead of just one person, making it difficult to differentiate gender.

"Severus Snape and Harry Potter, to retrieve a prophecy about the Dark Lord and Harry Potter," Snape responded, lips barely moving at all they were pinched so tight.

The person raised their wand and whatever spell they cast, made the tip glow blue.

"You will hand over your wands for the duration of your visit."

Harry was very reluctant but he did see Snape give his over and knew that he had to do it. Reluctantly, the boy relinquished possession of the foci and took a deep breath. He could still do some wandless magic if it came down to it. It would only be a few minutes.

The person nodded and lifted their wand. When it glowed white, they murmured, "Follow me," and set off down one of the long aisles nearby.

The Hall was full of shelves that were filled with glowing, silvery balls of light. Like crystal balls that possessed some kind of inner power of their own.

A ways down the aisle they went, before changing aisles. The person stopped in front of a shelf and waved to it with a flourish of their wand.

Harry could see the plate underneath that certainly had his name, but not the name of the Dark Lord.

"That's… incredibly strange," he finally said. "Which Dark Lord is it talking about? Like, Britain can't be the only country to have suffered under a Dark Lord in the past half century, right?"

Snape looked to the person, who merely shrugged. "The prophecies appear here. Until Mr. Potter retrieves it, we may never know of what it speaks. I do know that if it has been fulfilled already, it would have cracked on its own and the plaque beneath it would have cleared."

"What's the question mark for?" asked Harry, eyeing it with suspicion.

"Someone else had fit the requirements but part of the prophecy was fulfilled with you instead of them."

Harry reached out and plucked the orb from the shelf. It was cold in his palm and vibrated intensely.

"You must break it to hear the prophecy," Snape told him.

Harry dropped it immediately and the form of a bedraggled woman with large glasses that made her eyes looks far too large, appeared. She was silvery in appearance and her voice was that of a well aged smoker. She looked strange with her numerous necklaces and weird beads in her frizzy hair.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him. Born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."

The woman faded into nothing, until only dead silence remained.

"It doesn't say that I'm going to kill anyone, just that I supposedly have the power to!" Harry sneered, realising just what Dumbledore had pulled.

In order to prevent Harry from turning out like Voldemort, because he was prophesied to be the man's equal, he had taken preventative measures that ended up failing! It just seemed that Dumbledore never seemed to learn from his mistakes, or he just didn't care about the lives affected when he deliberately made bad choices.

If nothing before this had convinced him of Dumbledore's terrible character, then this had sealed the deal.

On another note, now that he knew that neither he nor Tom were prophesied to kill one another, that removed a large obstacle from his path.

"Tom and I are going to have words," the boy promised himself, not minding that two men had overheard him. One most likely not understanding and the other understanding all too well.

* * *

Harry stood with his back pressed firmly against a wall. One mistake. He probably shouldn't have done it, but how else was he going to satiate his curiosity?

He'd gone to the third floor to see just what it was that was being hidden. He wished that he hadn't.

Skilled he may have been, but what eleven year old could go up against a bloody Cerberus and win? Harry didn't have any musical talent to begin with, so if he even wanted to get by the creature, he would have had to use a spell and those kind of charms weren't taught until third year.

And why should he feel the need to get past a three headed dog that looked so vicious it could make a shark seem tame? Because the being was standing on a trap door and he kind of wanted to know what it was guarding.

What else could it be but a guard dog?

Brushing off his robes, Harry left the empty corridor behind. Neville was probably looking for him.

* * *

It was by pure chance that Severus had warned his students and the Hufflepuffs to remain in the Great Hall the night a troll was let into the school. The creature had been found roaming about the dungeons and could have killed either the Slytherins or the Hufflepuffs had they gone to their respective dormitories.

At the same time, the Dark Lord and Quirrell had tried to slip past the damn dog, only to find that it wasn't guarding anything yet, so the distraction had been all for naught.

Something had to push Dumbledore into putting it down in the lower chamber. But what could it be?

Severus wasn't a fool though and he knew that Potter was going to be the reason for it.

No matter what happened, Potter was always the reason for it. Whether the boy knew it or not.

Damn, Albus to the lowest pits of hell!

* * *

It was some time before the Christmas hols that Harry had finally found a chance to speak with Tom.

Snape had been in contact with the man somehow and had arranged a meeting with a promise that no harm would come to him, because Snape had already relayed the prophecy and Tom was much more level headed at the moment.

It was when Professor Quirrell walked into the room that Harry very nearly rebelled. There was no way that _he_ was Voldemort! The man was so pathetic that Voldemort wouldn't even put on an act that terrible. It would be too embarrassing.

" _Let me see him._ "

That voice did not come from Quirrell, nor Snape. It was whispery and familiar. In fact, Harry remembered where he had heard it before. His dream.

Quirrell proceeded to unwrap his long turban and turn around, revealing a very gaunt and emaciated face, that lacked a nose and possessed red eyes. Quirrell had a face on the back of his head! Gross! And it reeked of garlic!

" _Harry James Potter,_ " the face spoke, it's whispery voice much clearer.

"You invaded my dream! Tom, what the hell?"

Snape's head fell into his hand with a loud smack, but Harry didn't care. Tom could just enter people's dreams. There was something wrong with that!

The red eyes narrowed, making a shiver run down his spine. " _How much do you know?_ "

"You married my former self and had sex nearly twice a day," was his blunt reply.

The smacking sound returned except this time, Snape's head was in both of his hands. Quirrell emitted a high 'meep' of embarrassment.

To his credit, the Dark Lord didn't so much as blink. " _You know quite a lot then._ "

"Yeah. Also, Harish left me his vault and a letter. There's a letter for you as well."

" _Then I suppose I will have to retrieve it when I get another body._ "

"And _how_ are you going to do that?"

The face smirked. " _The Philosopher's Stone of course. Dumbledore has it and I need it. Once I have it in my possession, nothing can stop me._ "

Harry simply stared at what used to be a man. Voldemort was stuck living off the back of someone's head. He had fallen a long ways ever since that night on Godric's Hollow.

"Are you sure that using the Stone thing is going to be helpful to you in any way? How would you even know how to use it? Only one has ever been made and it has been in the control of the same man for the past six hundred years."

" _The Elixir of Life will make the drinker immortal, Harry,_ " said Voldemort, Harry's name coming out as almost a hiss.

"Yes, but are we talking being unable to die, being unable to be killed and then just dying at old age or from disease, simply remaining in a young body for as long as you take it and then you age again when it's gone? There are different forms of immortality now, and it doesn't specify which one it talks about nor how to make it."

And the room went silent as all within contemplated his words.

"Besides, I think you already have the immortality thing taken care of. So how would the Elixir get you a body?"

The crimson eyes narrowed. " _Let us just have faith in my Alchemy skills._ "

"If you have skills, why not make your own Stone?"

" _Because it takes years and I need a body as soon as I can manage it, you brat!_ "

"No need to be rude."

The two stared each other down for several moments, before Voldemort huffed and ordered Quirrell to take over once more.

The turban was wrapped delicately around the face and Harry only caught a glimpse of crimson before the purple turban blocked his view.

"Potter," Snape started, "you have knackers made of brass."

"What did _I_ do?"

The man simply rolled his eyes and didn't bother to respond.

* * *

The Mirror of Erised was supposed to be dangerous for people, so why the bloody hell was it in some random classroom in a school? Why was it even still around? Shouldn't someone have destroyed it so that it couldn't entrance any other innocent souls?

The only good thing about this whole venture, was the fact that Harry had gotten James' Invisibility Cloak for Christmas. Why Dumbledore even had the Cloak at all remained a mystery but he was going to have Snape check it over to make sure that the barmy bastard didn't ruin it or try to put tracking charms on it.

Harry stared at his reflection, trying to remind himself that it was all an illusion of sorts and that he could not look for too long. It was hard.

Harry wasn't often faced with thoughts about what he wanted in life. Instead, he found an odd mixture of Harish, books, and Voldemort/Tom. The boy couldn't understand everything he was seeing and realised that he didn't _have_ any goals for the future except to avoid Dumbledore at all costs.

What did Harry want in life?

He was himself. Not Harish, or Haraldr, or Hadrian. Just Harry, with a few extra skills.

What did Harry James Potter want out of life?

Not to be another Harish.

Not to be used by anyone.

Not to be alone.

* * *

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	17. Chapter 17

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* * *

Albus Dumbledore had spent many a decade feeling confident in himself and his abilities. Not much existed that could put him on edge. Not much that would make him worry about himself. Nothing that needed his personal attention.

His relationship with Gellert Grindelwald had revealed so many new facets about Albus' personality and he had learned quickly that he was more capable than he had originally believed. But then Gellert had to stray from the plan and in the middle of their battle, Ariana had to suffer the consequences.

That was how Dumbledore ended up fighting for his own beliefs. He judged everything based on his experiences with Gellert. If anything was even remotely like Gellert, it had to be eliminated before it could possibly become any worse. And that was exactly what happened when he had met Tom Riddle for the first time.

The boy had seemed normal, but then his irregularities began to shine through the longer he attended Hogwarts. It was obvious that Tom was not concerned with other people and seemed to view himself as being far above any of them. Just because he was talented, did not mean that he was better than anybody.

It was alarming behavior, which was what prompted Albus into watching him very closely. The boy was a threat to the peace of their magical society and if Albus had to, he would destroy that threat if given the proper incentive and chance to do so. Anything to keep the dark from overthrowing their land.

When one's least favourite person exits from their life. People are usually thrilled. Not Albus. The day that Tom Riddle graduated was the day that he had fallen out of Dumbledore's scope. That meant that Tom could be out in the world, getting up to nothing good and tarnishing the innocent minds of everyone he came into contact with. He had already molded the poor souls of his fellow Slytherins into worshiping him without proper cause.

He would spread his vile attitude to others and it was disgusting.

Often times, Albus would hire somebody to go and look into Tom Riddle's life. And he was never pleased when he received the reports on the boy's well-being. Usually, the child decided to expose himself to others of similar nature, which _did_ save the innocent from his influence, but it wasn't good enough for Albus.

Tom had chosen to work in Knockturn Alley, one of the darkest and most evil magical shopping districts in all of England. To make it even worse, he has chosen to work at Borgin and Burke's which was a well-known Dark shop. The owners of the shop were known to be men of questionable action, and had been under the scrutiny of the Ministry of Magic more times than Albus could count. That meant that they were untrustworthy and not proper company to keep.

Tom Riddle had decided to place himself in an area that Dark witches and wizards frequented, in order to integrate himself into their lives. And with his talent at conniving people into doing what he wanted, Tom Riddle would no doubt gain a massive legion of followers.

It was worse than Albus had expected it to be.

Then one day, one of the watchers informed him that Tom Riddle had been in contact with a young, Hogwarts student. A Hufflepuff.

Dumbledore had been understandably displeased, because the poor child was too innocent to be exposed to one such as Tom Riddle while he was on his own. And what was even more worrisome, was how Tom had apparently taken a liking to the younger wizard.

All throughout the summer, the child would visit Borgin and Burke's at least once a week and he and Tom would stand around and talk, and sometimes they would use Tom's lunch period to sit down at the Leaky Cauldron together.

When little Haraldr James came back for his fourth year at Hogwarts, Albus had immediately noticed a difference in the child. Where once he was shy and innocent and preferred to keep out of the way of almost anybody, he was suddenly confronting Gryffindor's and getting cheeky with his upperclassmen.

Of course the boy was never caught doing anything, but Dumbledore knew. He knew very well that this was Tom's influence on the child. Tom seemed to ruin everything he touched and went near. It was obvious just by using Haraldr as an example.

Albus tried to rectify the boy's errors. He tried to make him understand that his choices in life were going to lead him down a Dark path where there was no return. His warnings were not heeded, and he received many looks that he had once seen pointed in his direction while on Tom Riddle's face.

And that was when Dumbledore knew that Haraldr James was a lost cause.

Since the boy was beyond his aid, Albus knew that he had to do anything to get him away from Tom. Anything.

It was unfortunate that the child had to be sacrificed, but it was better for him to be dead than for him to live the rest of his life in the Darkness that Tom was leading him into. Dumbledore had mourned with the rest of the staff and the students, because Haraldr could have been something amazing had he not made such a terrible choice in his companion.

Tom's reaction to the situation had only proven that Dumbledore was right in the end.

Years later, Tom Riddle returned as a different man than when he had left.

He had left because Armando had wanted him to gain more experience and then return in a few years to take up the post.

When he returned, Armando had passed on, leaving Albus in charge of Hogwarts.

Albus had refused to make Tom the Defence Against the Dark Arts instructor. As if Albus would give him any level of authority over the young and impressionable minds that would lead the future!

How would Albus have any way of knowing if Tom would try to slip in some _evile_ magic into his teachings? How could he be certain that the boy would not favour the Slytherins over all the other students? And how could he be sure that everything would be done fairly?

He couldn't. It was the smart choice for him to deny Tom the job.

As the days passed, Albus took notice of something new. Tom had shown an interest in a new person. While he was gathering his followers, he also seemed to be courting a former student of Hogwarts.

A Slytherin who was incredibly talented, and had a level head on his shoulders. Albus have been skeptical of him, but he had never gotten into any mischief or trouble during school. In fact, the boy seemed more Ravenclaw than Slytherin. Albus had been willing to place money on the assumption that the boy was only placed into Slytherin because that was where the rest of his family had gone.

Albus had been perfectly okay with leaving the boy to his own life. But then he entered the Ministry and within a few years, had managed to become the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister herself.

If that wasn't something to be worried about, his new husband was.

Who was the husband, one might wonder? None other than Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Albus had immediately noticed the resemblance between Haraldr James and Harish Flint. Tom had gotten so obsessive that he had gone and replaced his dead friend, with a look-alike. It was an incredibly sad thought, and it just made Albus all the more wary.

Tom had no issue with using a relatively innocent child to get what he wanted and that was not okay.

No matter how Albus tried to save Harish from his husband's controlling ways, the boy did not want to listen to him or his Order. He did not believe anything they had to say. He was stubborn, and had obviously been swindled by Tom's way of thinking. Tom was a master manipulator after all.

It was in that moment, when Arthur Weasley had come to their meeting in tears over something Harish had said, that Albus had decided that Harish Hamish Flint needed to be stopped.

Someone who spurned the good and righteous actions of the kind-hearted, and delighted in the evil that the wicked were wrought with, couldn't be worth saving. And so he would have to be taken care of one way or another.

The loss of lives during Harish's last raid had left a large blow to the side of the Light. However, the wonderful news of Lily Potter giving birth had just flushed away the sorrow. Especially when her child was revealed to be the child of the prophecy that Dumbledore had heard.

This child would be the savior of Magical Britain. This child to be the one to rid the world of Tom's nasty influence. This child would need to be reared properly, and taught all the ways of the good and Light.

Even when James and Lily had unfortunately become victims of the war, Albus knew that he had to continue on with his plans. He knew that Harry Potter would one day grow to defeat the Dark Lord.

There seemed to be one little problem however.

Harry Potter had gone into Gryffindor as was expected of him. However, he had already known about the magical world, and had already shopped for all of his school supplies and had therefore not needed any assistance in understanding the world he had never been a part of.

On top of all that, the boy was nothing like a Gryffindor was supposed to be. Severus had even claimed that he was more Slytherin than anything else, which was worrisome.

He did not make friends with Ronald Weasley, and instead chose Neville Longbottom as a companion. He wasn't particularly kind to the Muggleborns students. Just because Ms. Granger was a little too rambunctious, did not mean that he had to be so rude to the poor girl.

And to top it all off, he lacked the mentality needed in a saviour.

It was as if the universe had convened to conspire against Albus' plans for the boy! How was he supposed to vanquish someone if he did not possess the moral compass or desire for good, like a hero should?

Adding on to his list of stresses was the fact that Tom was inside the school and seemed to be taking his time in retrieving the Philosopher's Stone. As if there was something else of interest to take note of first.

So how was Dumbledore going to test Harry's mettle when he didn't seem all too concerned about anything beside his grades? And how would he set up the perfect situation for Harry to face Tom and not fail nor flee?

Because from what he had seen thus far, the boy was more concerned over his own health than the health of those around him. Just like a Slytherin would be.

Harry needed to vanquish the Dark Lord. He was prophesied to do so!

And wouldn't it just be so terrible when Tom was destroyed by someone who resembled his husband so closely? As if the universe was shoving his evil deeds involving Harish, back in his face?

It would be poetic in a sense.

* * *

" _That's_ what we came down here for?"

Voldemort sighed because once again, Harry Potter was complaining. If the boy hadn't wanted to come, he shouldn't have asked to.

"It is an priceless, ancient artifact and yes, it is what we came down here for."

The boy huffed. "I still don't think it was worth it. You don't know what it will do to you because no one has ever actually done it before."

While he had a point, Voldemort was not about to give up now. Not when he was literally holding the stone in his hand.

Dumbledore should have added better protections to it. Why had it been so easy?

"He probably wanted _me_ to come and get it," Potter remarked. "He seems fixated on controlling my life for whatever reason."

Yes. Dumbledore thought he had a pliable weapon in his hands. If only he knew that Harry Potter preferred the Dark Lord he was supposedly prophesied to vanquish, more than the old coot!

Voldemort couldn't wait for the day the truth was revealed!

* * *

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